Cracking the Uncrackable
by PaperclipKiller
Summary: A college student who's talents get her recognized to figure out a top secret puzzle left by the Third Reich gets her sucked into the world of the undead. Now, she has to figure out a way to crack a much tougher code to get home. OCxRichtofen. The sequel is out! Check it out!
1. Prologue

Translations:

1. Teleporter Command Options:

Activate.

See Last Launch.

2. Last Launch Date.

March 18, 1942

3. Would you like to activate the teleporter?

4. Teleport to last launch date?

**Alright, this is my first round with a COD fanfic and it's an OC. I tried to make her...likable...and not Mary Sue. I don't know your definition but she seems pretty stable to me. Plus, I want to note that if you simply clicked on this story to completely disregard my story and post bad comments on my story, I'm gonna be a little mad. **

**I also want to note that this is/will be a romance. I will try to progress it slowly enough for it to be...realistic. **

**Also, this is the first chapter! This is a chapter for a little know-how of whats going on and how she acts, alright? Don't completely blow me off yet!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of Treyarch's characters because if I did, Nazi Zombies would be a lot more... racy. I only own my character. **

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><p>It all started on a day that I decided to go left instead of right at the intersection next to my house. Now, any person would ask themselves why this happens to be such a big deal and any person would then, after hours of musing, ask how this minuscule act would change the outcome of a persons life so hugely.<p>

Let me elaborate then, hm?

I had started my day just like any other; waking to the sun shining straight in my sleepy face, washing myself, dressing, and then heading out the door of my small apartment to drive all the way to my college whilst grabbing my helmet and my bag full books. I drive a motorcycle, a crouch-rocket that I had picked up to save money of gas.

I'd soon have my helmet on and I'd be swerving in and out of traffic with no particular problem what-so-ever. I did this everyday, why would my schedule falter now? Now, before anyone assumes that my reckless driving has anything to do with my overall misfortune I'd like to correct them. My driving has nothing to do with any of my current problems.

No, quite the opposite because if I indeed gone right I wouldn't be in this mess. But, no, at that intersection I had come to notice that my regular drive to school had been, to my overall disappointment, closed for sudden construction. Thinking nothing of it, I simply and unknowingly turned left. I rode my bike leisurely all the way till a block or two before my school until I came to another yet slightly more annoying roadblock.

It was a tiny thing and overall, a tiny fence that was painted white with POLICE spray-painted in black font on the front.

I padded my bike up to the front of the blockade and flipped up my visor. "Sir, what's going on?"

The police officer, a rather odd looking man with black sunglasses and a black suit, smiled. "Oh nothing ma'am, just looking for someone in particular. Mind showing me some I.D.?"

I shrugged, nodding. "Sure," I said, thinking nothing of it. I slung my bag around to my front, searching through it before finding my wallet and managing to pull my driver's license. "This'll do, yeah?"

"Yeah," he grunted before snatching my license and looking over it. His eyebrows visibly shot up and he cleared his throat. He handed me my I.D. and told me to wait, so I did. I sat there, holding up traffic as I did so and waited, minding my own business. Well, I did until I blacked out.

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><p>I woke up to find myself lifting my head; now sore and brandishing a rather large, purple bump, up from a table that I had never seen in my life. I didn't know where I was but once I actually looked I found myself in front of a computer table, a computer sitting in front of me with it's screen black. The moment I focused on the little white, blinking cursor it began to type.<p>

-Glad to see your awake, want to begin Mrs. Youngblood?

I sighed, moving my stringy black hair out of my face. I reach forward, tapping on the keys lightly.

-Begin what, exactly?

-The test of course.

I didn't like the sound of that but I typed back, unwavering.

-Do I have a choice?

-No. Shall we start?

I sat back in the chair, slightly shocked to feel it recline, and simply nodded, not that they would see me. I don't think, anyway. But, sure enough, they-or whoever was typing-answered.

-Alright, glad to see you've accepted. The test is on decoding. Find the code, decipher it, you have an hour. Begin.

Instantly, the text was gone and the code, strings and strings of jumbled letters that spelled out no significant words streamed on the screen before my eyes. The code was old, much older than any computer I had handled. It went all the way back to when the computer coding started and it was obviously government doing. I mean, it was discreet enough to be fooled as random strings of letters and obvious enough to be a code but nothing a normal civilian would try to crack or even understand.

I went to work and, for the most part, decoded it. It was easy. I simply found similar patterns, cross referenced to old documents that the case on the screen had given me, and wrote whatever I found down. I was soon sitting in front of three or four papers full of codes and they were completely figured out.

I mean, I was studying computer scripting, codes, and various other things in college. I did this as a child for fun. Gosh, did they think it'd be that hard?

I finally typed back.

-I'm done.

-Alright, someone will be in momentarily.

Right then the door opened and a man, dressed similarly to the man from this morning walked in. He had sheets in his hand. He grabbed my notes, scanned over them while comparing them to his, and nodded. "Alright, come with me."

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><p>And then, I was in an office. Not just any office, a rather bland one. I had looked around for pictures of family, pictures of <em>anything<em>, even looked for papers in the cabinets and draws. Nothing. Literally nothing, not even a paperclip or scrap of a post-it note.

So I sat, and waited. And waited. And waited even longer...as you can see, I'm rather impatient.

Then the door clicked and I spun around in my chair toward the door. A man, in a black suit-something I had grown quite accustomed to in the last few hours-walked in with manila files in his hands, four that I could count. He had a fifth one in his other hand.

"Tabitha Renee Anne Youngblood, twenty-two years old, five foot four inches, weighing a hundred-thirty-two pounds. Parents; both deceased, immigrants from England. Currently attending a local community college to study cryptology and computer sciences, correct?"

"Yes," I answer slowly. "Why does that matter at all?"

He set the folders on the table in front of me and I eyed them suspiciously, especially the ones that weren't mine. He sat across from me and got comfortable, taking off his glasses.

"Look, if this is about my drug issue..."

"This isn't about your drug abuse," he said, smirking in a way I wasn't comfortable with, "But, this is about your expertise."

"My...?"

"Yes, I said expertise."

"I'm a college student-"

"And the only person that has been able to decode the codes that we've given them," he said before adding, "The only person within the United States who's been able to decipher these codes."

"It was a recipe to a chocolate cake," I said flatly, "And unless it's radioactive, hardly top secret."

The agent smiled. "It was a test, I assure you what you'll be assigned next is far more interesting...and even more top secret than chocolate cake."

I scanned him over with my one blue eye and my one green eye and sighed, nodding. "They hired you because your funny, didn't they?"

"It's one of my better traits," he said, smiling slightly.

I pressed my lips into a thin line and exhaled out my nose. "When do I begin?"

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><p>What I stepped into next could only be explained as something right out of one of those cheesy conspiracy comic movie remakes that I went to see with my friends just for giggles. The room itself was huge and filled with rows and rows of old computers, all of them connected to cables that ran around the room like live, black snakes beneath my Converse. Above me was scaffolding, all of this laced with black wires that were strung up and held down like Christmas lights would be to a house which all eventually led to a giant, circular object at the center of them room.<p>

I was, for once in my life, at a complete loss. I was awestruck, surprised, and maybe slightly over-joyed and curious.

I didn't ask where I was simply because I knew that I wouldn't get a straight answer.

"This is where you'll be working until you crack the code. Whatever you find will be reported back to me, understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." I said that without looking at him. I was too transfixed by the giant circular device at the very back of the room, cuddled against the wall as if it were trying to hide it's massive size. It had the wires attached the top which the power obviously came from and the bottom, covered in come kind of thick, transparent material shown the swirling, dimly lit whatever underneath. "What is that?"

I pointed and the agent-he told me to call him Hudson-turned and shook his head. "Not important, your here for the code."

I frowned. "Fine."

He soon sat me down at a console and told me to work. He left, the door locking me in and it was me and the giant room. They had given me my backpack back and I pulled out my computer-or as I soon found out, a replacement they had given me until I finished-and soon, after Jerry-rigging the shit out of the _only_ working console in the room-managed to download the whole console, operations and all, onto my laptop.

I also managed to fashion myself a little connector that allowed me to control the console from my laptop. The connector was pretty long so I had a lot of distance to give myself.

I soon got comfortable too. I took off my over coat, the one I wore while riding to keep warm, and found myself sprawled out on the ground with the computer in front of me, typing away. I cussed at myself when I finally accessed the computer to find all the commands in _German_.

"You've got to be shitting me!"

I stood, soon finding a book with German translations-why the hell would that be lying around?-and soon found myself sitting in front of my laptop, yet again.

My screen, for the lack of a better description, didn't give me much to look at.

(1)**Teleporter Befehlsoptionen:**

** Aktivieren.**

** Siehe Letzte Launch.**

****I quickly translated. Last launch? I thought to myself, scrolling down since the mouse refused to work with this system, and selected it.

(2)**Letzte Startdatum:**

**März, 18, 1942**

****How interesting. I didn't type anything but the texts scrolled on.

(3)**Möchten Sie den Teleporter zu aktivieren?**

**Y or N?**

****I sighed, pressing my lips into a thin line and was about to stand, about to report into Hudson when suddenly a charge filled the air. My hairs stood on end and, after my stomach twisted into so many knots I thought it was impossible that it could get any tighter, I turned to the humming. The circular object, the one at the very back of the room, lit up like a Christmas tree and started to whir, like it was charging.

"What the-?"

I realize that I should of went and got Hudson but I didn't. Alongside being completely impatient I was also deathly curious. I took my computer, careful not to bump any of the keys and grabbed my bag-don't know why-and headed toward the teleporter. I stepped inside it, seeing the bulbs above me spark and hiss. My hair stood up from the electricity and my feet tingled, even through my shoes.

"This is so cool!" I said to myself, biting my lip. I chewed on it for a moment before looking toward my computer screen. The same command flashed on my screen, tempting me. I hit Y and another command popped up.

(4)**Teleport zum letzten Starttermin?**

**Y or N?**

****I hit Y and I heard the teleporter whir to life, the noise getting so loud that it hurt my ears before finally, the electricity burst and my whole body was sent...somewhere...and all I could see was black and blue lights.

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><p><strong>Done! Haha! Well, this is like the first story I've popped out in a while so review and tell me what you think, hm? I'd like that. Nothing too mean, okay?<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**To lazy stig: I thoroughly love you comment and constructive criticism. I would like to be able to message you and talk about some ideas that you'd like to see.**

**To Not Again: Don't know who you are, or why you even bothered commenting (don't even care honestly) but I have a few words for you; come at me bro.**

**To the unnamed commenter: Thanks but, I'd like to let you know that the name is a name from a dear friend of mine that recently passed. Wanted to make something to remember him by. Sorry it sounds wonky.**

**To Koishi K. Komeiji: What's not to love?**

**-00-**

**Thanks for the comments and criticism. I'll be sure to keep it all in mind. I really hope you enjoy all of this.**

**Plus, Ive decide that this will start in Der Riese. Sorry if the map is a little sketchy.**

Translations:

(1) Eĭ! Poluchit'ebet vverkh! - (Russian) Hey! Get the fuck up!

(2) Orokana amerikahito - Stupid American

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><p>And then I was dropped. Funny thing too. Being dropped had always been like this reoccurring event in my life. My mom had dropped when I was little (it was an accident, of course), my first boyfriend had dropped me because he tried to pick me up (he tripped), and my dad, at my high school graduation, had dropped me after a pose with a camera (he had been holding me...he always had been weak).<p>

Now, do I mind being dropped? No. Do I like the feeling or the sensations that come with being dropped? No. It hurts when you finally hit land and makes my stomach tie in knots.

I groaned, closing my sore wide eyes that were still blinded from the flashing lights, and put a hand on my forehead. For a second I felt like I was going to throw up but it quickly passed. I sat up, groaning again as I did so because of the cracking and popping that my spine was emitting. Once I was upright I instantly knew something was wrong.

First, the air smelled different. Now, don't get me wrong. Normally, the first thing a person notices in a room is the decor or the lighting but no, I notice the air. The air here was damp, as if all the windows had been left open on a rainy day, and the air also smelled heavy with smoke as if someone had burnt a meal in the oven. Second, I felt a slightly breeze, as if I was outside.

I finally decided, against my better judgement just to lay back down, that I needed to look around.

I opened my eyes to find myself, rather simply, in a courtyard. That explains the damp smell, I thought. Above me was a night sky, filled with stars and small insignificant clouds and the moon, or rather the sun, was eclipsed. The white slivers of light shining from the sun around the moon like some ominous halo. It was also bigger than I remembered, almost a little too close for comfort.

I stood despite my legs protesting me to sit and stood straight only to hear my back pop again. I hissed. It really did hurt.

After about five minutes of finally checking myself over and seeing what damage the fall had caused I noticed-even though this probably should have been the first thing I inquired-is that I was on a risen part of the floor, like a stage, with stairs right in front of me. It wasn't high, that much I could tell because of how man steps were there, and for some reason I felt safe up here.

I then noticed that my backpack and my computer were both beside me. My bag was on the very edge of the little platform I was on and looked dangerously close to falling off. I grabbed it and pulled it back to me before locating my computer, beat up but not broken and turned off, and grabbing it. I shoved it in my backpack and forgot about it for now.

What I was currently interested in was the place I was in. It was a factory obviously, I could see the smoke stacks from where I was standing, and it was, for the lack of a better description, a wreck. It looked abandoned too or at least, that's what I gathered from it. There were boarded up makeshift blockades with sandbags and boarded exits and doorways and from what I could make out, they were made in a hurry.

With backpack in tow, I eventually got down off the platform. Not because I didn't want to be up there but because, while I was musing and scanning the area I happened to look down and see another telelporter. I quickly removed myself from it's presence. It wasn't going to trick me twice. No sir! I was curious once but no more!

I'd figure out how to get back to Hudson and the computer room without suddenly being hurled into a black abyss.

I didn't venture far, or at least I think I didn't, but I soon found myself in a room that I fancied rather interesting. I had found a furnace, most likely the cause of the smoke stacks and the burning smell, and I had also, to my discomfort, found numerous jars. Now, normally jars are fine but these had...things in them. One has eyes in them, others has various body parts and organs, one had a whole spine in it.

Let's just say I was horrified but so much so that I couldn't look away. What made it even more disturbing was the green liquid (slim?) all the parts were stored in. I mean, it glowed. That struck me as odd.

I was just about to pick up of the smaller jars, one with a red glowing liquid and no human remains in it, when something across the room dropped and made a clanging noise.

I looked toward it, my body instantly tensing despite my somewhat calm mind. I suddenly felt cold. "Hello?" I called. "Anyone there?"

I moved away from the arrangement of preserved body parts and looked in the direction the noise came. I came to find myself looking to the back of a man, slightly taller then I, and found myself not as relieved as I would have hoped. I hadn't seen anyone since I had gotten here which I suspected was about thirty or forty minutes ago, and in a factory I expected at least someone to be here...

"Hey, um," I stopped myself for a second, thinking about what I was going to ask. I realized that I had just been happy that someone was actually around, I hadn't really thought about what I was going to say once I found them. "I need your help. I kind of, uh, landed here and need someone to help me out of..."

I stopped because of two reasons. One, the man hadn't acknowledge my presence, much less the fact that I had greeted him and second, now that I got past the initial feeling of happiness that I found someone, I felt sick. Really sick.

Suddenly, the man turned and I, for the first time in my life, felt as if I could die. The man wasn't a man at all! Well, it was, but there was no way he was alive! His jaw was gone, for God's sake. I took a step back when the things eyes focused on me.

It groaned and moaned at me, and then, before I could get past the shock, the thing screamed at me and ran toward me in a sprint. I yelped, my throat unable to produce anything different before I too took off in a full sprint. I turned to the entrance I had come from only to fine another yellow eyed freak waiting for me. I instantly did a one-eighty and bolted up the stairs at the back of the room.

I ran through yet another room before running across a metal bridge that looked at if it has recently been let down. Once across I hear something rather loud, like a bang of something exploding and then, rapid fire straight afterward. I paused, looking for what might have caused it. Though it was interesting and deserved attention, I excused it and kept the more important scenario at the forefront of my mind; the things that were chasing me.

I heard their uneven shuffling footsteps across the flimsy metal bridge and decided that I should probably keep moving because I felt as if my life depended on it. I ran down another pair of steps taking two steps with each bound and literally flew down another set of steps before finding myself in a...lab? I didn't have much time to look around because I was too busy thinking about where I was going to go next.

I ran right through the lab (testing area?), my lungs burning. I hadn't run this far in years. Hell, I used my motorcycle to go anywhere that wasn't on campus or wasn't close to my apartment complex.

And then I realized something that made my heart sink. I ran in a complete circle. And those things were still behind me. Perfect.

I heard their groaning behind me, one that had spotted me once in stumbled into the lab area screeched like it was calling the others. I let out a defeated ragged sigh and starting running again, only this time slower. I retraced my steps and found myself at the bridge again only to jump off the side.

I hurt my ankle a little but ignored it because what happened next is something whizzed passed me and connected with the brick wall just behind me. I looked to the hole in the wall and then looked from where it came from.

There was someone there, and that someone wasn't one of _those_ things.

At first I didn't know how to react and I didn't move. In a few seconds I came to the conclusion that there was someone here that was normal and, even though I should have been happy, I also realized that they had nearly shot me.

I didn't know how to feel about any of this.

Suddenly, something landed behind me and growled. I turned just in time to have one of those things swing and crack me a hard one against my face. I fell to the ground, stunned and completely out of breath. I felt my throat constrict. I was going to die.

I felt something grab me. I was going to die. And then, it tugged and dragged me away from whatever had attacked me. Then, I heard shots fire in rapid succession right next to my head. I covered my ears even though that only made my head feel worse.

(1)"Eĭ! Poluchit'ebet vverkh!"

What exactly did they just yell?

"Get. The fuck. Up!"

Oh, now that's something I understood. I stood despite my pounding head and felt yet another grabby hand take hold of me and yank me somewhere else. Most likely out of the way.

I was roughly put into a sitting position in a snug spot next to some giant crates and what seemed to be a metal wall. I came face to face with some piercing blue, anger filled eyes and a really nasty scowl. "Stay here, stay the fuck down and out of our way." His voice was rough, deep, and his breath was hot on my the tip of my nose.

I nodded, I felt as if it was the right thing to do at the time. He left. I curled into a ball, knees up to my chin, and waited. For what seemed like forever I heard gunfire. I tried to tune it out but it didn't work, it was always too loud. I soon found myself checking myself over. My ankle hurt from the jump I had taken, my head was throbbing, I had cuts on my left cheek bone and the left side of my neck from the things claws and, after much testing and rechecks, I concurred that my right ear-the one that was next to the gunfire-was not working properly.

Even after that the gunfire continued. I tried to close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere else but instead my throat managed to swell shut and tears started pouring down my cheeks. This wasn't possible! Those things were dead, or at least they looked like they should have been, and how they were even walking around was baffling. I kept running the images of those things through my head and eventually managed to calm myself. Almost. I was still shaking, hurting, and wanting to go back home.

I mean, who was going to feed my cats? Baby and Wormy would wreck my apartment if I left them alone.

Eventually, after convincing myself that this was just a hallucination or a dream, I lowered my head onto my knees and fell silent, shaking every time I heard one of those things scream. I suppose, sometime much later, they stopped shooting.

"Hey," the voice came, the same one from earlier only this time he wasn't yelling. "Hey, look up."

I did, my neck hurting as I did so. My head felt like it was going to explode. I didn't say anything because my throat was still pretty tight and I didn't want to let them think I was bothered. I mean, they saved my life. Whoever they are.

I looked over them, the three that seemed to have congregated around me, and smiled weakly. "Hi," I choked out. It was barely audible, sounded like a squeak toy. My mouth was also dry.

"Oh, good, you can talk," the one that was speaking was American, that much was obvious. His voice sounded low, gravely yet cocky and at that current moment I couldn't decide whether I found it annoying or attractive.

The other guy, a rather large man, scoffed. "Doesn't matter, why did she get in Nikolai's way?" The man gave me the stink eye. I gave him the best scowl I could muster at the moment. He was obviously Russian. He was also slightly fluffy, dirty, and smelled like booze (I could smell it from where I was sitting a _foot away_).

"Oh, shut up you Commi. She didn't mean it."

They got along swimmingly.

The Russian man pressed his lips into a thin line and then shrugged as if all was forgiven and then pulled out a bottle of what look like water but, somehow, I realized it was the exact opposite. He was drinking vodka. How stereotypical of him.

He sat down somewhere nearby and started drinking.

The American man turned back to me. "You feeling okay?"

(2)"Orokana amerikahito. Of course she's not! She was battered nearry to death."

The American man frowned even further but didn't answer not turn to acknowledge the Japanese mans existence.

"Look, we're gonna have Richtofen look at yah. He's a..." He paused, looking away as if he was uncertain. "He's a doctor."

Suddenly, I really didn't want to see this doctor.

"Takeo, go get 'im."

Takeo, as the American called him, didn't reply and simply left. I watched his figure disappear behind the American man in front of me. I instantly looked to him. "Where am I?"

"Uh, I think Richtofen called it Der Riese or something?"

"What? I've never even-" I got cut off before I could say more.

"Vhere is it?" The voice was shrill and was so loud that I could hear it through my hurt ear. I heard footsteps approaching me and the American man. I couldn't see who the footsteps belonged to but I somehow already knew. "Move Dempshey, your in my vay like usual."

Dempsey, the American man who had been crouching in front of me since I looked up, moved and grumbled something. It didn't sound nice. But, what I was looking at was probably worse. Not only was this man old and so thin that a slight breeze could pick up him up but he also had a frown that could curdle milk and a stare that could shatter children's souls.

In short, this man was scary. But then again, the uniform he was wearing didn't help. The lovely red sash that adorned his one arm literally screamed danger.

"Oh lookey here!" The doctor then dropped from his full height to crouching right in front of my face in seconds but his enthusiasm quick faded into a frown. "A voman. How strange to find you here."

I didn't say anything but rather just leveled my eyes with his and kept staring. He wasn't looking at me though, or at least not at my eyes. He narrowed his bright green eyes, the orbs flashing back and forth as if he was checking everything I had yet to look at in milliseconds. The man, though creepy, had a certain air about him that made him seem like a workaholic.

"Vell, from vhat I can see you have some minor cuts on your cheek and a some gashes over here..." He reached forward and his fingers barely ghosted over my neck before I flinched away. He instantly pulled back, his eyes on mine, a scowl barely appearing on his face.

"I don't like people near my neck," I said, my voice as stern as I could manage.

"Vhat?"

"You heard me."

The man, Richtofen if I remembered correctly, frowned deeply at that. "You have quite ze mouth." His voice had gone from the high pitched octave it had been to a harsh normal tone, his accent prominent.

I looked at him, my words standing. I don't care if I was hurt or not, he wasn't touching my neck.

He finally sighed. "Fine, I von't touch your neck. I just need to examine ze cuts and I von't touch it ever again."

I could tell he didn't like the compromise and to be honest, neither did I but, despite my discomfort, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to die.

"Fine," I managed, reaching up to remove whatever hair was laying near the area.

He moved forward again, his gloved hands moving my head very gently and hesitantly to the side. I hissed when he tilted my neck. He muttered a quick apology, eyes focused on the task at hand. He then turned. "Dempshey, get Nikolai's vodka and ze cleanest cloth you can find."

I heard no answer from Dempsey's end.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," I whispered, upset.

Richtofen's eyes flashed to mine and I could, without even looking, tell he was way too happy about this. "It vill be, for me zhat is."

I didn't answer. This guy was just grating my nerves on purpose. I kept my head tilted, to afraid to move it due to the pain. I thought back to the thing that had done this to me. "What were those things?"

"Undead," the doctor simply answered. He turned when the American tapped him on the shoulder with the half empty bottle. The doctor took it and pressed the cloth Dempsey had given him as well to the mouth of the bottle and tipped it. "Zombies? Yes, zhat's the word."

"Zombies? Those aren't even-ow! Fuck!" I was cut off when the doctor simply pressed the vodka soaked cloth against the cuts on my neck. I bit my lip and dug my nails into my leg. The doctor eyes widened a little in interested and the corners of his lips curled up ever so slightly. I could see it but he didn't seem to mind.

"Considering that you got hurt by one, I'd say zhat good enough evidence to suggest zheir existence."

"Yeah, well, goats are dying in Mexico and the Chupacabra is still a myth."

"Oh, your very funny," he said before pressing the cloth a little harder against my wound. I moaned in pain. He smiled. This guy was just sick. "Vhere do you come from, hm?"

"Virginia," I managed, trying to ignore the stinging.

"Oh, your American. I should have guessed."

I sighed when he pulled away the cloth for another saturation and relished in the relief that it gave me to have him away from me. "Okay, and your German. Glad that we have that established."

He narrowed his eyes and tipped the bottle a little more so the cloth was _soaking _with alcohol. I should have kept my mouth shut. Soon enough, his hands were back on me and running the cloth through my hair and over the side of my head. It stung even worse then my neck.

"And who are you anyway? Isn't it an insult to wear a swastika like that where you come from?" I asked, expecting a chuckle or maybe even an amused smirk but no, he froze. He then looked at me, completely still.

"Vhat do you mean by zhat?" he asked.

"Well, I thought it was illegal..."

He paused for a moment, pulling the cloth from my head. He looked at me, his eyes searching me as if he were trying to find something, before he finally spoke. "Vhat time do you zhink your in?"

"What?" That was an absurd question to begin with.

"Just answer me," he snapped, his voice never going higher than a casual tone.

"Um, it's 2011, isn't it?"

His eyes widened ever so slightly as if I said something that intrigued him but he said nothing, just returned to his work. I instantly felt guilty and I didn't even know why. "Um, doctor, did I-?"

"My name is Edvard Richtofen," he cut in.

"Well, Mr. Richtofen, did I say something wrong?"

He chuckled, moving his hand with the cloth from my head to my face where the cuts had managed to nick my face. I hissed, closing my left eye at the pain. I tried to jerk away but his other hand, the free one, kept my head in place. He came to eye level with me, a smile plastered on his face.

"No, quite the opposite," Richtofen answered before continuing with, "You answered a question zhat I've been asking myself for a vhile."

"And what's that exactly?" I asked despite the fact that I was afraid to.

He moved away, tossing the cloth in a random direction and corking the bottle of booze. "Vhether or not zhe teleporter could travel through time."

I suddenly felt very cold. I didn't like where this was going. "What do you mean?"

Richtofen just chuckled. "Welcome to Der Riese, Germany, 1942."

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><p><strong>Well, I sure do hope you enjoy this. I would like reviews, nice ones anyway. Criticism is fine, flaming is not. And for those who do comment, please log in. I like to answer to reviews. <strong>

**Until next time, I hope.**


	3. Chapter 2

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

(1) Willkommen - Welcome

(2) Ja - Yes. Informally, it means Yeah.

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**Alright! Let me explain a few things! **

**1. I want to include realism. You won't be seeing any chalk outlines on the walls where you simply see guns pop out. There will not be magic Carpenter things, they have to board the windows manually. There will be no Nukes. They will find them around the map and they will toss them when the find new, better guns. **

**2. Unlike in the game, ammo will be found around the map as well. Also, you will see them toss it to each other when they have the same gun. You will also hear of Nikolai and Tabitha carrying a lot of it because they both have backpacks. **

**3. Mystery Boxes are one of those things I haven't decided on including yet. If you leave a comment explaining how I can include it _with realism __attached_ I will include it in later chapters.**

**4. Even though this is a RichtofenxOC fiction you will see the other characters attempt to flirt. Jealousy will arise. Except for with Takeo, he barely speaks as is and I'm convinced he's not capable of human emotion. And face it, Tank is a flirt-if it has boobs, he's going for it.**

**5. Though this isn't about the story I figured I might as well put this out here. Don't get use to fast updating. I'm normally not this free.**

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**To all reviewers who commented on the story, thank you.**

**To all the reviewers who are fighting each other over comments, stop. That's what PM's are for.**

**Reviews of constructive criticism are appreciated and welcomed, flames and pointless comments aren't and will be removed.**

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><p>I haven't been quite the same since I got here. It's been less than a day, I think. I didn't really know to be completely honest because how can a person tell the time of day when the sun doesn't rise or set? Even the clock in the facility at which I am stuck seems to have forgotten the right time. Even my watch was stuck, its arms frozen.<p>

So, I'm currently sitting on a desk a room away from the other four. They had started fighting, well; Dempsey and Richtofen had...the other two just kind of watched. I can hear them yelling.

I sighed, pressing my shaking hands against my forehead. It had been less than ten minutes since the last zombie horde. There had been three or four dozens at least! And guess what I had been stuck doing? Running. Why? Because I'm useless when it comes to actually hurting a human being, I've never really been able to hurt someone. I've never hit a person, never tried to pick fights. Hell, I'm not even good at hurting people with words.

I shook again, my body refusing to calm down. My legs were cramped, my chest was sore, and because I'm clumsy my one knee was now skinned.

"It's...going to be okay..." I whispered. "It's going...to be fine...it's just some...dream."

At the time it was the best thing I could come up with. I figured that I had fallen asleep and this was some nightmare I was having while I was drooling all over my keyboard.

But that didn't stop my chest from clenching, or my throat tightening. I could also feel my eyes begin to sting. My hands curled into fists while pressed against my head. I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from wailing. But, in reality, none of that helped. I felt the claws of fear ripping at my mind, filling me with horrible possibilities that only made it harder to stop myself from crying.

Soon, my hands covered my face. I bit my lip to keep from making noise.

I hadn't cried this much since my parents deaths. That only made it worse but it was better than what I was stuck in. It had been just one horrible mistake, a misjudgment on some other driver's part, which completely ran my parents off the road one icy winter.

They had insisted on coming to my house, saying it would be fine. Saying that they'd be careful. And, because I loved them, I said fine and told them that I would see them soon.

The next time I saw them was in the hospital morgue. The man who had knocked them off the road had been arrested for reckless driving and had been allowed to talk to me about how sorry he was. He had pleaded, saying that it had been an accident and that he hadn't meant to. He said he had felt guilty. "Guilt and saying sorry isn't going to bring them back."

Yes, I had said that. I remember being mad but then, after the anger waned and the sadness set in, I began to blame myself. I had allowed them to come over. I had done that. It was my fault. And I began to blame myself for it. That was over two years ago, when I was twenty.

I cried harder despite my bitter thoughts, or maybe, it was because of them? I didn't care.

When I started to blame myself for their death I soon began to feel guilty about that I had said to the man. I felt as if I owed him an apology. From then on that's how I stayed. I'd blame myself for the smallest of things or the simplest of reasons. Even if they didn't make sense I find the blame and place it on me.

It warded people away from me too, which was good. With no one to stir up trouble the less I blamed myself over minuscule things. Side effects; I had no clue how to interact with people emotionally. Or at least I believed I didn't. I could talk to them, no problems there, but as soon as it came to the emotional aspects of a friendship or even a relationship I knew nothing. Eventually they left and I would blame myself all over again.

A perfect example of a never-ending cycle.

But, this time around, I couldn't blame myself. There was nothing I had done to cause this and, unfortunately for me, the people of whom I was stuck with obviously couldn't simply just leave. I was stuck here with four older men who, as far as I was concerned, were completely nuts. They all believed that it was the year 1942. I had asked them all after what the doctor had said. They all said the same thing, looking at me with the look in their eyes that said I was the crazy one.

And the doctor just stared at me, his green eyes cool and smug, and a slight smile gracing his pale thin lips. After that, more of the zombies came and I was forced to run.

"You know, crying doesn't help anything."

I looked up to the voice and instantly started wiping the tears away. I was not going to let them think I was just some sissy. "I wasn't-"

"You were," Dempsey said, his eyes level.

I didn't answer, just wiped the last bit of moisture from my face and looked down. Why did he make it sound like a bad thing?

He didn't say anything for a moment, just leaned against the frame of the door. He then stood upright. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

It was a simple enough question and for some reason I felt embarrassed to answer. I looked at him and shook my head despite the fact that I felt like I was being judged.

He sighed, running his hand over his short cut blonde hair. "Had a feeling..." He paused, looking away from me before finally looking back. I could literally hear the gears turning in his head. "Would you like to learn?"

That's when I didn't know whether or not to answer. I had never shot a firearm in my life and I hadn't exactly planned on starting. Some people that I had met in the past had commented that it was a way to relief stress, that it was exhilarating and fun. I had never seen the appeal but if it meant my life was a little safer, then yes, I'd learn.

"Sure, if you willing to teach me."

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't."

I nodded.

"C'mon, let's go uh...get this started?"

"Yeah, guess so."

I slid off the desk and hooked my thumbs through the straps of my backpack. I followed him, ignoring the rather rude comments spewing from the Russian about Dempsey 'nailing me already'.

"Is he always drunk?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Yeah, basically," Dempsey said, not glancing back.

I followed him through some doors into the front courtyard where a funny looking soda machine was just to my left. It sang a cheery little tune. How cute.

"What's your name?" He asked. There was never any noticeable emotion in his voice so I guessed that he was curious.

"Tabitha," I answered neutral. I had never really admired my name.

He didn't answer at first, just mumbling something before holding up a hand for me to stop. I stopped; confused, and watched as he raised the gun he had on him and took a quick look over the place. He checked all the boarded windows, checked for any stragglers and then waved. It was fine for now.

He moved me to the right side of the courtyard to a small walkway leading to a door to the teleporter where I had woke up.

I examined this part of the courtyard. From where I was standing I could see the teleporter I had come from through a part of chain-link fence and I could see the Tesla-coils and bulbs on the tower above it. Wires and power lines hung above us.

He disappeared for a moment, coming back with a gun. He took a moment to move a barrel filled with charred wood to the center of the walk so I could see. It was clear on the other side of the courtyard. "This is a Gewehr 43. It's nothing compared to anything American but does a pretty good job."

He literally dropped it into my hands. It was heavy, awkward, and didn't feel quite right to me. He stood next to me and pointed. I felt my stomach twist in a knot.

"That barrel is your target," he said, his voice the same as it always was. "You try and hit it alright?"

I looked up at him since he was taller than me and gave him a look of disbelief. "Aren't you going to explain this a little more?"

"What's there to explain?"

I shook my head. I took the gun, still awkward and somewhat heavy, and tried to aim it as best I could. The gun was held as far away from me as possible while still having both hands holding it tightly. The knot got worse. I lined up the little iron sight and after I felt comfortable enough, I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I pull again. Still nothing.

The knot in my stomach dissipated with disappointment following close behind.

"Is it broken?"

He chuckled, laughing at me. "No, the safety's on."

"And I was supposed to know that how?"

"Ok, hit that switch right there."

I flipped the switch and looked at him. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

He just looked at me. "Shoot it first and then Ill explain further."

So, I aimed it again and pulled the trigger. The gun went off and the stock bounced back, smacking me right in the shoulder. I yelped in pain and dropped the gun. I also managed to miss.

Dempsey eyed me with a somewhat amused look on his face. He then reached down and pick up the gun. "What have you learned?"

"What?"

"What have you learned?"

"That this thing is a load of crap," I said, rubbing my shoulder.

"No, wrong answer." Dempsey put out. He then continued with, "The gun needs to be nestled against your shoulder. Otherwise you'll get hurt and possibly knock your shoulder out of place."

"And you let me do it anyway?" I asked, face red with anger.

"Yes," Dempsey said. "You needed to learn. Also, when your aiming, aim low. Recoil will cause your shot to go high."

"Aim low, okay. Anything else?"

I was still mad but I figured that I should listen.

"Yeah, don't drop the damn thing. It could misfire and hurt someone." Dempsey held it out to me and told me to take it, which I did. "Now, try again."

I snorted and tried again. I gingerly set the stock against my shoulder and pressed. It hurt, but who would suspect otherwise? I then aimed and, with a tight grip and my sights set a little lower then last time, I pulled the trigger. Again, it kicked like a mull and it hurt but unlike last time I heard a satisfying DONG! I had hit the stupid barrel.

"Good job."

I flipped the safety back on and set the thing down. I still didn't like it. "Okay, what now?"

Dempsey shrugged. "Don't know but keep that thing close, will yah? Plus, when it's time to reload, just pull the cartridge out and put a new one in, the top should slide back after that. Take good care of it too, it's yours now anyway."

"What?"

"Yep," was all Dempsey said before walking off toward the barrel, gun slung over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

Dempsey looked at me. "I'm going to check the boards, got a problem with that princess?"

I frowned. "No, I don't. And don't call me princess either."

"Can I call you Tabby?" He asked, eyes looking at my face to gauge my reaction.

"Sure. And what can I call you? I only know you as 'Dempshey'."

I smiled a little when I saw his face contort in mild annoyance. I knew his name wasn't pronounced that way but I wanted to see how he would react when someone besides the doctor said it.

"Call me Tank," he said finally before continuing on his merry way to where ever the next boarded window was. Soon he was gone from my sight.

I stood there for a moment or two before I decided to head back to where we had been before all this. I picked up the gun Tank had given me and slung it over my shoulder. "Tank? Huh. What a funky name."

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><p>Not long after my little shooting lesson I found myself alone again, back at the same desk I had been crying at earlier. I set down my gun next to the desk and took my backpack from my shoulders before setting it on the desk and riffling through it.<p>

What exactly had Hudson taken from my bag? Not much from what I could tell. I still had my iPod (probably because it was unable to take pictures), my compact, chap-stick, and my tampons. I also found a pack of Double-Mint at the bottom which made me a lot happier than it should have. I also had twenty dollars in cash and miscellaneous change, not that it'd do me much good here. Then there was the laptop. Yes, Hudson had replaced my computer but it was still something rather important. It had all the documents I needed to decode on it and, to my most recent discovery, the programming to operate a teleporter.

I took it out and set my backpack aside. I booted the laptop and logged in. A corner of the screen had cracked and was black but besides that there was no other visible damage. Everything worked fine. My eyes instinctively looked to the bottom right-hand corner; no WiFi signal.

I sighed. Just my luck. Of course I'd end up in a place with a bunch of loons outside...I stopped my thought. He had said it was the year 1942. There would be no WiFi in this time.

I stopped myself instantly. I then reasoned with myself. Time travel was impossible! It wasn't even possible in my time, much less 1942.

But, then again, everything seemed so...real. And up until I had never heard of Der Riese. In my whole entire life I had never been anywhere near Germany so how would I know a title or name of a place or factory in Germany? I suddenly felt very cold. I looked down at my one arm and bit my lip. What if I pinched myself?

It was nonsense really. I considered all the pain I had been through since I got here and, if this had been a dream at all, I figured that by now I'd be awake. But it was worth a try. So, I pinched myself. It hurt all right but I was still here, standing in front of a battered desk with my replacement computer staring at my blankly.

"You still don't believe vhat time your in, do you?"

I turned instantly and saw none other than the deranged doctor who I had the pleasure of meeting earlier.

"No, I suppose I don't," I shot back, frowning. "Why would I? Time travel is impractical, improbable-"

"But not impossible," he cut in. His green eyes seemed to glow as they stared into mine. I gulped, somehow more convinced of where I was then before. This man made me extremely uncomfortable. "I find your eyes to be zhe most...interesting feature about you."

I was taken aback by that. I didn't exactly know how to answer. "I, uh, thank you?"

(1) "Willkommen," he answered, eyes still staring at mine. His eyes instantly flashed to the desk and he frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in concern or possibly confusion. "Vhat is that?"

I looked to the desk and found my laptop there, still open and alive. I had completely forgotten that it was out and more importantly, none of the men here would know what it was. "Oh! Um, it's a computer."

"A computer? No, it can't be. I remember them much...bulkier."

"I'm from the future, remember?" I put in blandly. Did this man have a bad memory or something?

(2) "Ja, I remember. I just can't believe..." Richtofen stopped himself, his eyes focused on my computer. "Have zhings really gotten zhat far? I mean portable computing devices?

"Yeah, they have," I said awkwardly. I stuck my hands inside my pockets and fiddled with the loose strings on the inside of my pants. I couldn't help but smile at his interest. I suddenly felt very smart. "That thing can hold a lot of things, from movies to music to pictures. Right now I have some coding on there that I have yet to finish."

"Interesting," he whispered, his eyes shifting in thought. He looked up, as if he was about to ask me something. Then something in his expression changed. It was a small change; I honestly don't believe how I caught it. His eyes, once creepy and hard, had softened ever-so-slightly. He still looked curious it's just that his eyes, which were normally sharp and moving all about to take everything in, had simply stopped and looked at me. It felt odd being stared at.

"Very interesting," he whispered. "Excuse me."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my laptop. I wanted to go after him, ask him if he had any other questions but I decided against it. And then, while I turned to put away my computer, I realized that before he had left he hadn't been talking about the computer.

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><p><strong>Another chapter! Reviews are appreciated. Hope you enjoy that little tid-bit. Until next time.<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

(1) Idioten - idiots

(2) Ja - Yes or Yeah

(3) meine Frau - my lady

**-00-**

**To all those who wrote awesome reviewers who's reviews contained constructive criticism I thank you for reading. I also reach out to those who gave me PM's and told me some ideas. I appreciate your help.**

**To Cheen - I appreciate the fact that you read my story and left your _wonderful_ comment. Again, it's all opinion. Your definition of Sue is different than mine and I'm not mad that you think my story's a little sketchy. To be honest, this story was created to rid myself of writer's block. All I ask is that if you don't like the story or the character, don't read it anymore. **

**And to all flamers, let's not forget the meaning of _fanfiction_ is that the _fan _makes a story of _fiction _based on _their _opinion on certain characters, events, and things they would like to happen. The whole point of is so _fans _can write _fiction_ about characters they enjoy. It's fun and games. No need to be harsh.**

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><p>At the moment, the only sounds I was capable of distinguishing were the raged breaths that fell from my lips and the messy shuffling of the undead horde less than twenty paces behind me. Now, about a day or two ago Tank had given me a gun, my own personal Gewehr 43 and I had used it to the best of my abilities. Too bad my abilities were shit.<p>

Compared to the four men in which I was stuck with my zombie killing average per horde was maybe three or four, topping out at six if I got lucky, while they were pulling in numbers ranging far over twenty. Even Nikolai, a rather giggly yet crude drunk, was doing far better than I. Tank had, obviously trying to be nice of course, said that I was doing fine and that I would get the hang of it.

If 'getting the hang of it' meant running out of ammo, I was doing just fine.

The horde had come without even a moments notice. I had no time to talk to anyone about my dwindling ammunition crisis and now, I was certainly doomed. There was five behind me when I had checked last time and when I looked over my shoulder I found that one had wondered off in search of easier prey. Hopefully that easier prey meant Nikolai. I mean, he could handle himself, right?

I ran down the stairs near the testing labs, taking two steps with each footfall, and dipped right into a small hallway. I had heard Tank talking to Takeo about this place earlier. He had hidden explosives here, something by the name of Betty? I didn't pay enough attention.

Anyway, I found one tucked against the wall and grabbed it before running back out. By the time I jumped down the other set of stairs the zombies were right behind me. One took a swipe at me but missed.

"Is rigor finally setting in fucker?" I hissed, pissed off. I hated it when those things hit you. Not only did it hurt but they left gashes because of their long, sharp claws.

It groaned at me and shuffled on it's way, baring it's teeth at me in anger. The other three didn't look particularly happy either since their friend managed to let their meal get away.

I jogged through the testing lab with the bomb in hand, looking at it with a puzzled look on my face. I didn't know how to work this thing! I looked over it looking for anything that looked like a trigger. I pulled the three prongs at the top, tapped it, and even rattled it yet nothing happened. This is when I really began to bash on myself. I mean, how stupid could a person be? A baby could figure out how to work a grenade!

Wait. Grenades had pins! I looked at the neck where the three prongs at the top sprouted from and saw a tiny straight pin stuck through the neck. I was now outside so I had a little time to figured out how I was going to do this.

I pumped my legs as fast as I could and got a little ahead of the miniature horde of zombies that was following me. I set the bomb down, grabbed my gun from my shoulder and used the butt to remove some dirt from the ground. It wasn't a hole but it would do. I grabbed the bomb and shoved it in its shallow grave.

I could see them now, shuffling towards me. They had managed to find out where I was apparently. I had noticed that they had this habit of looking around and getting distracted. This usually gave me some time to get away.

Once they saw me they growled and started running toward me. That hadn't been apart of my plan.

I stood and used the tip of my sneaker to press the bomb as deep into the ground before bending down and pulling the pin. After that, I ran. I didn't know whether the thing had a timer or something but I wasn't going to take any chances.

The zombies tumbled forward, their faces contorted in annoyance. I waited, bouncing on both feet. I really hoped that this worked. If it didn't I'd have to run back to the group and hope that they had enough ammo. Soon the zombies were in front of my little trap. And then it happened, just as I had planned. The front zombie, the one that had taken the swipe at me, stepped on the bomb and within seconds it jumped up and exploded. It took out three zombies and left the forth crippled and extremely pissed. It continued to try to get me by crawling towards me.

I sighed. Well, my plan had mostly worked.

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><p>Later that day or night - I still can't tell - I was nestled against a wall staring into the glowing yellow eyes of the crawler that I had made. Tank had used a piece of wire to tie and stake it to the ground right beside the bridge so it wouldn't go wandering off and start nibbling on peoples ankles.<p>

The crawler, who I had affectionately named Snuggles, was mad. He had pulled his leash taunt about an hour ago and was waving his arms at me with a rather unhappy expression showing on his decaying features. I looked at him, my face more amused than anything, and huffed.

The zombie looked confused for a moment, as if he was surprised by my action, until he forgot what he was surprised about and continued to look pissed. He then continued to wave his arms some more. I really hated teasing things but this was way too much fun. I sat just beyond Snuggles reach, teasing him with my tasty flesh that he wanted so badly, and just smiled.

"Keep trying. You might get lucky. I'm feeling generous."

Snuggles just kept waving his arms, his yellow eyes shining on me like spotlights. Funny thing, I mused. I was feeling generous. I inwardly hoped that none of the guys were nearby to hear that.

Snuggles died later that day when Nikolai thought it was a good idea to light him on fire with his new flamethrower.

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><p>It had been at least five hours since the last horde even though I couldn't guarantee that my timing was precise. I was currently wandering around the factory in search for ammunition or a new gun, minding my own business as it would seem, whilst listening to my iPod that I had found in my backpack about two days earlier.<p>

Over the two days that I had been here I had found myself a rhythm. It wasn't perfect by any means but it would work. When a horde came, unlike the guys, I'd run off and circle through the front courtyard and on occasion I would cut through the testing labs, picking off a few that followed me. It worked for me and the plus side was is that I was getting much faster.

My legs has stopped hurting sometime yesterday and even though my lungs still hurt after each run I found myself accelerated and giggly instead of scared and crying. It's fascinating how easily a person under uncontrollable circumstances can accept what has happened to them. I still didn't enjoy being here but I had, for the most part, come to accept my imprisonment.

I soon found myself in a room just above the furnace area. This part of the factory was always warm due to the constant fires that went on around this particular area and I normally enjoyed my time here. I found myself a spot on a nearby desk - this place seemed to have an overabundance of them - and perched myself on it and got comfortable.

I took my backpack and opened it. In there were all the normal things I carried around with me aside from the massive amounts of bullets and clips that Tank had helped me gather. I took out my laptop and opened it, booting it up before logging in and going back to all the codes that Hudson had given to me.

I began working. I took a pen from my backpack and, with a scrap piece of paper I found in the desk, I began to write down and cipher all the little codes. It was a tedious process but it would have to do. I shut my laptop and let it go into standby before continuing with my work. It was hard to translate all of this because, to my dismay, all of the original codes were in German. I barely knew any German so I would decipher the word as is and when I came across a symbol or letter I didn't know I'd put down a parenthesis with a question mark in the middle.

I remembered when my dad first showed me a type of code. It was a simple thing, Egyptian hieroglyphs that my dad had wrote on a birthday card. It had read about how much he loved me, and that he wished me a happy birthday. That was when I was very small, barely six if I remember correctly, and he had no clue what he had started. I grew up, receiving clever notes from my father and studying code cracking alongside my other schoolwork.

It was something that me and him had enjoyed together, father and daughter bonding time so to speak. It was a game in reality. If my dad had planned something special he would write a code - it was different every time; from riddling to binary to anything he would see as challenging - and he would hand it off to me. And, just like in his favorite secret spy movies, he'd say, "Your mission, if your willing to accept, is to crack this code. If you do I promise that the reward will be quite promising."

I was little of course so the reward, if I finished, would be ice cream or a trip to the movies with him. I found it fun so he nurtured it.

As I grew older the puzzles got much harder. He would set up multiple little games for me that I'd have to find within a certain time-frame. He always offered a reward, simple things like ice cream just like when I was little, and despite his age his puzzles always kept my brain turning.

I missed him. I mean, he was the only one who was really excited about me going to college for cryptology. My mom had been happy but she had really hoped for something else. She was the reason I decide to take computer sciences.

I remembered my father quite fondly. He was a tall man with thin body parts and black hair, like mine, with a thin nose and a round, soft face with caring eyes that were just like mine. I got most of my looks from him. My mother was accountable for my short stature, my small chest, and my barely-an-hourglass figure, that and my thin lips.

I admit that my parents didn't given me much but I thanked them for my existence and the life that they had bestowed on me.

I stopped coding once I found myself stuck, turned off my computer, and shoved it along with the piece of paper into my backpack. I swung it over my shoulder and dismounted myself from the desk.

"You know, I believe zhat vandering off may be more dangerous zhan helpful."

Richtofen's voice made me jump, my hear skipping a beat as my eyes landed on his figure standing stock straight in the doorway.

I opened my mouth but before words came out he continued.

"Alas, I can see vhy you do. Vorking vith those (1) Idioten nearby proves very difficult," Richtofen put out, his voice somewhat level. I had managed to notice how much his voice changed when he was excited opposed to when he was calm and collected.

I took in his statement before answering. "I supposed it's difficult. They are kind of loud."

(2) "Ja, agreed," Richtofen let slip before he looked over me again. I swear, this mans eyes were like scanners or something. "May I ask vhat you are vorking on?"

"Uhh," I let out. I always had this problem, blurting out random noises when my brain didn't allow words to come out. "I was working on a code."

"A code?"

"Yes," I stated, "It was given to me so I could help my employers find an easier way to translate it. Most of it is in a different language."

"And vhat language is that?"

At this point his general curiosity was making me nervous. I didn't particularly enjoy it when people asked me about what I was doing. "German..."

Did that seem too hesitant?

"Ah! I see. I could help, if you'd like?"

I pressed my lips together, looking at the backpack strap that was currently in my hand, and puffed out my cheeks. I didn't know if that was even allowed. I was supposed to crack the code, decipher it, and then deliver it. No one else was supposed to be involved.

"I'm afraid I can't-" I then stopped myself. I didn't know German, didn't understand a lick of it. The only reason I knew what I was writing was because the letters in the alphabet were almost the same. That, and the code was linear, which meant it read like everyday sentences. That, at the beginning, had been a relief. "You know, I think you could. I mean, I can't read it..."

I swung my backpack around once more and pulled the piece of paper out and handed it to him. He took it, his gloved hand brushing over mine before snatching and putting it in front of his face. He read in silence for a moment before his eyes, once calm, turned instantly hard and angry.

"Vhere did you get this?" His voice was high pitched, dripping with suspicion.

"What?"

"Vhere did you get this Tabitha?" He looked straight at me as he asked that, his focused in on mine like a killing machine. I could tell that hurting me wasn't beyond him. But, at the very core of me, I was surprised and somewhat happy? Up until now I didn't know that he had taken his time to ask for my name. Not from me, of course, but the fact that he had taken time was appreciated.

"I got it from Hudson, my employer," I said quickly, afraid. I could feel my hands starting to shake. Something about his eyes scared me. "He asked me to decode this for him and his employers. He gave it to me. I have no idea where he got it from."

Richtofen's mouth curled into a snarl, as if he didn't believe me, but I could see his body loosen up. "Are you lying to me?"

"Why would I?" I asked, trying to make my tone more fearless then I felt. I stopped myself, suddenly feeling anger well up inside me. Who was he to talk to me like that? I was just doing my job. "And why do you care? It's just some silly-"

"Because I vrote zhis," he said, cutting me off completely. His eyes were still angry, still honed in on me like he was the Terminator.

I stopped instantly. I completely forgot that he was seventy years ahead of me and, since he is a Nazi doctor, he had most likely been apart of some rather shady research. But why would Hudson be asking me to decode Nazi documents on...whatever Richtofen had been working on?

"What does it talk about?" I asked. I instantly regretted it, seeing as he was already mad at me and suspected that he wouldn't tell me. But again, my expectations of him are shattered.

"It is about zhe teleporter research zhat I had been apart of. Ve had done some...questionable zhings zhat I zhought had been destroyed after zhe incident. I'm thoroughly surprised zhe American government vould search out such a zhing as zhis."

He then straightened himself out, adjusted his hat and belt, before clearing his throat and holding the piece of paper out to me. "I suppose zhat I vill see you around, ja?"

"Yes," I said slowly, reaching for my paper. I still expected him to strike me, to hurt me in some way, but he didn't. Not badly, at least. I gripped the paper and tried taking it but his hand grabbed a firm hold on mine. He squeezed it a little too tightly to be completely friendly which caused me to flinch. I bit my lip.

His eyes stayed connected with mine as he bent down and pressed his chapped lips to my hand. He squeezed a little harder, I tried to jerk my hand away.

"Is zhere a problem (3) meine Frau?"

I gritted my teeth as his hand slowly began to tighten a little more, each word bringing just enough pressure to cause a little more pain.

"No," I hissed.

He chuckled, standing up straight. He let go of my hand, a smug look gracing his features. "You look so pretty vhen your trying not to cry out in pain."

And with that he turned and left leaving me with more questions then answers and a hurting hand.

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><p><strong>Reviews are appreciated. And, DUN DUN DUN. Okay, yeah, lame but whatever. Thanks for reading. <strong>


	5. Chapter 4

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

**-00-**

*****Note: In the Japanese language the letter L's sound does not exist. So, when Takeo speaks, 'L' will be seen as a 'R'.

Translations:

None this time around.

**-00-**

**By the way, I figured since I can play with the story and the characters that the weather could be under my control as well. **

**Plus, want to warn you ahead of time: this chapter is a Christmas chapter. It has relevance to the story line and the plot but it has snow and the gift of giving and what not. Don't flame me. **

**I love all your reviews. I enjoy all the good criticism and I like the fact that you guys enjoy the story. Hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter! **

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><p>"So, I think Richtofen hates me," I said to the person next to me. My eyes, once focused on the ground, swiveled over to him and waited for him to answer. I felt my stomach tighten when he didn't answer at first. I hadn't planned on talking to anyone about this.<p>

"He hates everyone, it's nothing unusuar," Takeo put out, his voice low and calm like it always was. He never even turned to look at me when he spoke. "But what exactry makes you think this?"

"Well, he hurt me," I said, my tone neutral. Takeo's eyes were instantly on me, worried looking and somewhat curious, but I could also see that he was suddenly on edge. I could tell it was about what I said. I instantly corrected my statement. "He hurt my hand."

Takeo's body instantly calmed but his face, still stern looking, showed me that he didn't enjoy the subject we were on. He sighed. "Richtofen is roose in the head. He has some serious issues." Takeo paused, seemingly thinking about his next statement. "Richtofen arso sees many things as a threat. He rikes to hurt things. He arso rikes to hurt people he enjoys and that he sees getting in his way."

I turned that statement over in my head a few times. I looked away and then, after a moment, looked back to Takeo. "And which one am I?"

Takeo was silent, not looking at me, before finally turning to face me with a somber expression. "That is something you yourserf is going to have to find out."

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><p>And then it came, like water rushing from the floodgates. The doubt instantly filled my body like lead. I found myself slower than usual and unwilling to move. I also found my mind, which was usually clear, clouded and filled with junk I needn't worry about.<p>

My thoughts of the crazy German doctor made my life a lot harder. On one side, I was worried the man might jump out and kill me. He seemed capable, more than anyone would like to admit and it worried me. On the other side, I was worried he'd completely forget me. I mean, wanting to murder me was better than being forgotten so the zombies would eat me. Right?

In all honesty, I didn't know. There were others who'd remember me, like Tank or Takeo. Why did I care about the man who had a few too many bolts missing remembering me? And besides, up until yesterday, he had pretended like I didn't even exist. Or did he?

God! I hated uncertainty.

I mean, obviously this man was observant. I had asked Tank if Richtofen had ever approached him about my name and Tank had blatantly said no. That he wouldn't care. So, there went my old theory of him asking around but that finding had also brought up another good question. Where had he found it out? Had he been following me? Had he been eavesdropping on Tank's conversations including me? I may never know but the simple fact that he had sought out my name intrigued and worried me.

It intrigued me because, well, why would someone go through all that trouble when you could simply ask? Unless he didn't want me to know, which is just as odd. But it worried me as well because I have heard of cases where murderers stalk their prey before killing them. What if he was doing the same to me?

That made me shiver.

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><p>Snowflakes started falling in the middle of an attack. The zombies came full force with a storm following close behind them. But, unlike all the other days I found myself being threatened and harassed by the undead, instead of running, I found myself sitting. And by sitting, I mean injured.<p>

Let me explain.

I was running, pumping my legs as fast as I could while running from the freak bags. They were fast today, shuffling and running just five or six paces behind me. All of them were very, very mad for some reason and already they had swiped at me at least five times. Two had connected.

One of them had been in the testing labs where I had tried to pick up a shotgun I had seen discarded earlier this week. A zombie had come out of nowhere - or least no place I had seen - and slashed me across my left arm. The claws marks stung like hot knives and made me scream. In a rush I ran away, ducking underneath another arm that lashed out to try and grab me. I ran, cradling my arm against my side in attempt to not only stop the bleeding but the pain as well, and turned into the front courtyard where the teleporter mainframe made its home.

But, my luck decided to take a vacation today. A zombie who had recently breached the board entrance to the basement grabbed my leg on it ways up the stairs. I had been running so the sudden stop pushed the rest of my body forward which let me land oh-so-gracefully on my face. Pain erupted instantly, my very skin felt as if it was trying to claw itself off. My nose was stuffed up with blood.

But, as if it couldn't be any worse, the thing bit my calf.

I screamed. The pain in my face suddenly didn't matter anymore. I instantly turned and kicked the thing in the face. When it didn't let go I did it again until it did. Once it let go I stood, screaming out in pain as I put pressure on my leg just to limp away. So, with my arm held against my chest and my leg barely able to move, I tried to limp away.

Now, remember how I mentioned the zombies being extra fast and extra pissy?

Well, as I limped away, one of the few that had been chasing me decided to take the extra step and grab me. The undead Nazi tackled me to the ground and held me there. I twisted myself under it, turning on my side to almost face it, and tried to fight it off. With both arms I hit this thing and beat it, diverting its teeth from me so it couldn't bite me but deep within me I knew this was in vain. I could hear them, shuffling toward me, yelling and hissing as they drew closer.

The zombie on top of me grabbed at me and tried to bite at me, growling and screaming at me but I knew it wouldn't be the death of me until his friends came which, regrettably, wouldn't be long.

That's when I heard it. A little jingle, a rhythmic clapping of little metal plates, and then the zombie above me was gone. The shuffling and growling I heard was now heading away from me, growing much less noticeable. Then there were hands on me, tentative and gentle, gripping me to find a place that wasn't injured before picking me up and cradling me against their body.

I looked up only to see the world as I knew it spinning out of control.

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><p>I woke up screaming. My throat was hot and dry, my face cold and sticky from tears, and my arms were outstretched and pressing into...something. I screamed again, louder, only to get my mouth covered by someone's hand.<p>

"You honestly sound like your being murdered!"

Thats when I opened my eyes. I was suddenly face-to-face with Tank Dempsey. His eyes were zoned in on mine, his deep blue orbs searching my face, studying me as if I were some injured animal. I instantly reached up and grabbed his hand, ripping it off my face.

I took a few deep breathes and sat up, instantly regretting it because it moved my injured arm. I hissed in pain, grabbing the hurt appendage and cradling it as Tank, who looked genuinely worried, looked over me.

"You gonna be okay?" He asked, eyes trying to find mine.

I shook my head, grinding my teeth. "I'll be fine...I think," I admitted, though I wasn't exactly sure.

Tank looked over me, his face unreadable. "Alright, if you say so."

I looked at him, letting my arm down very slowly so that it wouldn't hurt more then it already did. "What are you doing here? Aren't those things here? Aren't they-?"

He cut me off. "We took care of them hours ago. When Nikolai heard you screaming and we noticed all the zombies had followed you well, Takeo threw a monkey and we all came to rescue you. Well, me and Nikolai did."

I looked him over and smiled weakly. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Thought I was a goner."

He nodded, smiling. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Well, I'm gonna go find you a jacket, alright?"

He stood, grabbing the gun he had set down beside himself. I hadn't noticed it till now. I looked back up at him. "A jacket?"

Tank looked at me, nodding. "Yeah, it started snowing during the attack, remember?"

"Uh, no, I didn't," I put out, looking surprised. "I was too busy running for my life. Is that what you do when they attack? Admire snowflakes?" I tried to sound sarcastic.

"Oh, do I! I love to just sit on my happy ass and look at the sky."

"Why do I believe you?" I asked.

"Oh shut up."

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><p>For the next few hours nothing happened. Tank never found me a jacket, there were no attacks, and there was nothing to do. So soon, all five of us sat inside the one teleporter room away from the falling snowflakes trying to occupy ourselves and by occupy ourselves I mean playing cards.<p>

And currently, from what I being told, I am losing horribly. Honestly, I don't see how they are keeping track but the men seem to know better than I.

"You really are horrible at this game, aren't you Tabby?" Tank asked, looking at me as he shuffled the cards.

I sighed. "I honestly don't see how you can tell I'm losing."

They all looked at me, looks of complete disbelief brandishing their faces. That's when, to my embarrassment, Richtofen held up a piece of paper with tally marks under different initials on it. I blushed, looking away.

"What? I didn't know you were keeping track."

Richtofen chuckled. The rest of them all laughed.

I sat there with my face red as Tank re-dealt the cards for what seemed like the hundredth time and we all fell silent. I held the cards in my one hand since I still wasn't brave enough to move the other one. I had a really horrible hand again. I folded, setting the cards down before shivering violently. The cold was finally getting to me because up until now I hadn't seen through the pain to notice.

Richtofen looked up from his hand. His green eyes looked over me. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah but I'll be fine," I said, waving it off.

Richtofen shook his head and continued with his game until Tank won, yet again. I swore that he was setting the deck. Richtofen then unbuttoned his jacket and shook it off. He then tossed it straight into my face. "Take zhat. Ve vill find you a suitable replacement soon."

I pulled the jacket from my face and looked at him to find his eyes focused on the next hand that Tank had dealt already. I looked at the jacket and, feeling obligated to put it on, slid it over my shoulders.

At first, it smelled horrible. It was a potent mixture of sweat, dirt, and copper from blood and it made my nose sting. But, the more I sat within the confines of the jacket the more I got use to it. Amazingly, it was rather warm and comfy and, despite its bold smell, very welcoming.

That night, for the remainder of the time we spent together, I wondered if Richtofen was a lot like his jacket.

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><p><strong>Hope you like this chapter. I don't feel too good about it. Review if you like. <strong>

**Plus, Merry Christmas. That's why I made it snow. **


	6. Chapter 5

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

**-00-**

Translations:

None this time either.

**-00-**

**Alright, this chapter is kind of weird. I don't know how I feel about it. Tell me what you think if you wish. I hope you enjoy it though, there's a little more relationship development. **

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><p>"Tank! Watch out!" I screamed, my voice hoarse from the cold air. When he didn't hear me I let out a shot taking down the zombie that had managed to sneak up behind him. He instantly turned, looking at the dead zombie and then at me. He gave me a thumbs up.<p>

I didn't acknowledge his gesture but I figured that it wasn't important right now. It had only been two days - at most - when I had gotten beat up real bad. My left arm was still wrapped and in a sling while my bum leg was wrapped tightly to prevent bleeding. Richtofen had patched me up the best he could with the supplies that the guys had managed to find in the facility and since painkillers were limited I had to tough it out most of the time.

Amazingly, despite my injuries, the guys figured out a plan to protect me but at the same time, allow me to help.

They had posted me up on a catwalk by one of the teleporters, next to a window, where they taught me to use a sniper rifle. It was a simple enough concept and, even though I could barely use my one arm, I had been hitting zombies left and right, picking off the ones the guys hadn't noticed.

But, what I had noticed over my past few days was that the zombies were slowly growing in numbers and in strength. It was almost as if the zombies were spreading the word to their undead buddies and leading them to us.

I hit another zombie, popping it in the shoulder, to allow Takeo enough time to reload before mowing it down. He looked over to me briefly and nodded, a sort of thanks, before returning to the carnage. I took a moment to look behind me at Nikolai, who had volunteered to sit with me today to watch my back because I couldn't, and smiled at him. "You doing okay back there?"

"Da, I get to drink and kill shit. I'm not going to complain." He said this right before he took down another zombie followed by yet another swig from his bottle.

"I'm glad your so comfy."

I looked back just in time to shoot another zombie. It didn't kill it but it made it easier for the guys downstairs to and that made me feel like I was important. At least a little bit anyway.

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><p>I hadn't realized how beat up I was until hours later when, by complete accident, I looked into a broken mirror that I found in one of the destroyed bathrooms. I stared at myself in shock, barely recognizing the woman in front me as myself.<p>

My hair, once neat and clean at one point, was now oily and knotted. At one point I remember it being in a ponytail but now it resembled nothing of the sort. I figured that it must have fallen out at some point. I looked over my dry skin only to come to the scarring gashes that I had earned the first day I had arrived here. They had long since scabbed over and began to scar becoming half-inch soft pink lines running across my one cheek.

I had always healed fairly fast but I thought back to Richtofen and smiled. He did a good job.

But, I had to admit that I looked horrible. I probably smelled even worse. Or maybe that was Richtofen's jacket I was borrowing?

At that moment I decided it was time to freshen up. I stripped my backpack - yes, I still have it - and the jacket Richtofen had given me and, after finding a working faucet, turned on the water. I found myself slightly overjoyed that the pipes hadn't frozen. It was still cold water but right now that didn't matter. Then, after much searching, I found a discarded and somewhat frozen bar of soap on the ground in one of the stalls. It wasn't the most sanitary thing but it would have to do.

I then stripped my shirt - which I instantly regretted because of the cold air - and took the cold water into my hands. I washed the dirt and grime off my hands before moving up my uninjured arm. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. I was still skinny like I had been before but now my ribs stuck out a little more than I remembered. It was probably because of all the exercise I'd been doing.

I then washed my armpits and my neck before putting my shirt back on. I quickly huddled back into Richtofen's jacket. Warmth wasn't far behind as soon as the jacket was returned.

I then used the soap to wash my face. I scrubbed as hard as I could with my hands and cleaned off as much dirt and blood as I could. Next was my hair which, in all honesty, was a lot harder than I remembered. I used the water to wash out the blood and dirt that had collected there over the last few days, using the soap sparingly to give my hair some kind of treatment, before ringing it out and throwing over the back of the jacket so the water wouldn't touch my shirt.

I'd be cold for a little while but at least I'll be clean. That made me feel much better.

I grabbed my backpack before shuffling out into the brisk air.

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><p>When I found Richtofen staring at me while I was cracking the code Hudson had given me I found myself more fascinated than disturbed. I was sitting on my usual desk in the room above the furnace rooms when he walked in and just stood there, his unblinking lime green orbs honed in on me.<p>

I still had his jacket from the night he had given it to me and suddenly, despite it's usual warmth, the jacket seemed to withdraw it's heat and leave me stranded, cold, under the crazy doctors gaze. I stopped my code cracking to look up at him. "Is there something you want? Do you need my help?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you standing in the door frame like some creepy killer?"

The doctors eyes seemed to light up. "Vhat if I am some creepy killer?"

My gaze didn't separate from his. My face didn't change. I was actually surprised at how calm and straightforward I was being. "Then you've come to kill me?"

There was a silence, a pregnant and somewhat awkward one that hovered over the both of us for what seemed like forever. He didn't speak or separate his gaze form mine and his body un-moving, he looked like a statue but, finally, after a few moments he even crossed his arms in a defensive position. His eyes didn't change though.

"Vhat exactly would make you zhink I vould vant to kill you?"

"Because I am a weak stupid female who does nothing but provide a scapegoat in case the zombies get out of hand," I said, suddenly feeling sick because of the truth in the statement. Or, that's what I thought anyway. "That, and I get in the way of things."

"And vho told you zhis?" he asked, his eyes still not moving from me.

"Well..."

"And be truthful."

"No one," I admitted.

He smirked. "Exactly," he said before adding, "Now, vhy vould you zhink zhose zhings about yourself, hm?"

I sighed, looking at my computer for moment before I closed it. I stared at the floor behind where the screen had been and thought. Why did I think those things? I suppose that it's found deeply rooted around the fact that I have extreme self-esteem issues. That, and the blaming issue that I believe I'll never truly get rid of. Maybe a mixture of both?

"It's because..." I stopped, not looking at him. I realized that I honestly didn't know why. I then turned my head to face him. "It's because I'm not as good as you guys and I've...gotten hurt so much that I can't even run anymore. What if...what if they get out of hand? What if there are too many? I'm not gonna-"

"Stop." He cut in.

"What?" I asked, more angry that he had interrupted me than anything else.

"I said stop because it would never happen," Richtofen said matter-of-factly.

"And what makes you so sure that it won't?" I asked, truly curious. Yes, I was still a little mad that he had interrupted me but what made him think that the worst possible outcome wasn't possible?

He stayed silent for a few moments before finally taking a sharp inhale. "Because, in zhe off chance that such an event vould occur, I vould not let zhat happen."

As soon as those very words sunk in I felt my brain literally grind to a halt. Words, at that very moment, were beyond me. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then turned away from him. I then realized that I was suddenly very hot and my face was on fire. I had to say something, I thought, I couldn't just leave him hanging.

"Thank you..." I said, my voice tight and a pitch higher than normal. "I really appreciate that."

"Your velcome," Richtofen answered. "Are you alright?"

I tilted my head down so, if by some chance he came closer, he couldn't see my face. "I'm fine..." I put out. "I'm just...hungry. Haven't ate in a while."

I heard Richtofen hum to himself as if he were in deep thought before saying, very slowly, "Alright zhen, I'll send Tank you hunt for some food tonight. I'll tell him vhere to find you."

"Thank you, again," I said, not looking at him.

I then heard his footsteps wander away from me. It was when I no longer heard his footsteps that I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding. That was also around the same time that I pressed my hands to my face and began to rub my cheeks like that was going to make the blush go away.

Deep within my chest I felt a tiny tug, a feeling of tightness that made my stomach twist into uncomfortable knots but, at the same time, made me want to laugh and giggle like a little girl being tickled.

He cared for my safety or, at very least, didn't want me eaten by zombies. Richtofen had also, whether it was intentional or not, dashed the idea that I was useless and that I was nothing more than a scapegoat. So, did this mean that he liked me being around? Or was he simply buying time, telling me such things so that he lured me into a false sense of security before he and the others left me behind?

No, I thought. I refuse to do this. I am not going to blow this out of proportion! He simply said that he wouldn't let me get eaten and die because of the zombies. It meant nothing else. Or did it?

Well, fuck.

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><p>"So, he told me that he wouldn't let me get eaten by zombies. Is that a good or bad thing?" I asked, looking at the Japanese man sitting next to me.<p>

Takeo, who was currently munching on a piece of stale bread that Tank had brought from one of his adventures, sighed and looked to me. I could never really read his expressions and found it hard to decide whether or not he wanted me to talk to him.

"Why do you insist that I know everything?" he asked, his eyes looking into mine.

"Because I have a feeling that you know more than you let on," I admitted.

Takeo looked at me for a moment before shrugging and looking away, taking another bite of his bread. I waited, munching on my piece.

"I do berieve that he rikes you," Takeo said finally. That sounded good. "Or, he just wants to kirr you himserf."

"Lovely," I put out, my voice distorted by bread.

Takeo chuckled and shook his head. "No, I think he rikes you. If he didn't we wourdn't be tarking right now. He might even find you interesting."

I didn't say anything to that statement. "Thank you."

"No probrem."

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><p><strong>Another chapter! Woot! Review if you like. <strong>


	7. Chapter 6

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

**-00-**

Translations:

(1) Saigo ni - Finally

(2) Nein - no

**-00-**

**Okay, I hope all of you will be happy with this chapter because honestly, I'm not. This chapter is the first of many steps that lead into the more mature part of the story. This is the chapter where a lot, and I mean a lot, of relationship development takes place.**

** But, I do want to let you know, I'm realistic. Just because one side of the pairing says one thing doesn't mean that the other side will be happy to accept it. After this, Tabitha will probably be getting the silent treatment for a little while. You'll see why.**

**You'll also see that Tabitha herself is not completely positive of her emotions so there's going to be a lot of back and forth. **

**Plus, you'll also see that a third party is being brought into view and this third party is not happy about said OC being cozy with a crazy Nazi. Like I said before, jealousy will arise and there will be issues. **

**This chapter is, sadly, a point of ****no return. Beyond this point is where the whole 'romance' part of this becomes apparent.**

**Enjoy and review if you like. **

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><p>"So, what <em>exactly<em> is going on between you and the doctor?" Tank asked, shutting my laptop even though he knew very well I was busy.

I looked up to find his disapproving blue gaze staring right into my mismatched one. I sighed, closing my eyes, straightening up only to hear my back crack from being hunched over for so long, before looking away. "You know Tank, I realize your concern but you almost sound jealous."

"So you admit there's something going on?" Tank asked, pressing the matter.

"So you admit that your jealous?" I shot back, not giving an inch.

Tank stared at me, his gaze narrowing for a moment before he took his hand off my computer and cross his arms across his chest. I vaguely remembered my one friend saying that the motion of crossing your arms was a sign that you were hiding something or keeping people out. I quickly shoved it to the back of my mind.

I decided to indulge him. "There's nothing going on. We talked a few times, he gave me his jacket to borrow until I find one, and he just happened to say that he doesn't want me eaten alive."

"So your saying he cares for you?" Tank asked, his eyes still narrowed and angry looking.

"I'm saying anything Tank, your the one making assumptions," I said, trying to keep my voice as level as humanly possible.

He didn't say anything for a moment, his eyes still honed in on mine as if he were looking for a kink in my story. I snorted inwardly. If I were lying my eyes wouldn't be the thing that would give it away.

He finally caved, sighing deeply as if he were tired. "I'm worried."

"Why?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Because Richtofen has too many loose screws and he's..." Tank paused, looking away. "He could hurt you."

I scoffed. "Anybody here could hurt me Tank," I admitted, knowing the truth behind the statement. If any of them wanted to they could easily throw me about or take advantage of me. Luckily, none of them seemed interested. "Besides, I can take pretty good care of myself."

"Is that why you got bit?" Tank snapped, his eyebrows knitted together.

Suddenly anger lit up inside me like someone decided to turn on a lighter inside my chest. "Oh thank you Tank, I find your confidence in my abilities reassuring."

I shoved my laptop into my backpack along with the papers that I had been working on and zipped it up. Instantly I could see Tanks face change from something of mild annoyance to instant regret. "Look, I didn't mean it that way," he said, his voice bordering on something close to a plea, even though it still held traces of his prior emotions.

"I'm sure you didn't," I said, my voice dripping with anger. I didn't even dare look at him. "You've made your point."

I stood from my spot on the ground and before I could start limping away Tank grabbed the strap of my backpack I wasn't holding. I instantly turned on him.

I glared at him, my eyes keeping direct contact with his. I quickly accessed that about two weeks ago I would have never been able to do this. Yes, in the past I had been mean to people who had hurt me but never - and I mean never - have I been able to look them right in the eyes without so much as regretting it.

"Let go," I hissed.

"No," Tank said, sounding more like a disobedient child. "I'm sorry alright? I didn't mean it that way. I'm just worried about you."

"I understand that but insulting someone isn't a way-"

"I get that, alright?" Tank cut me off which, despite my anger, surprised me. I could see he was angry too. "I forget your not a man and that you take things differently. I really am sorry, alright?"

I didn't say anything at first but, despite the fact that he had insulted me, I felt my anger deflate. It was a valid point. He had been hanging around the other three for a long time it seemed and when you got used to certain people you forget that other people, people your not used to, may not take certain things the same way. That and, even though I'd never admit it out loud, Tank was just one of those people I couldn't stay mad at. I mean, he had saved my life.

"It's..." I started, pausing to let my brain actually think before speaking. "I understand and I'm sorry for getting mad."

Tank smirked, his usual cockiness returning. "Eh, it's alright. Your a woman after all."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

I smiled despite myself. "Can I have my backpack back, please?"

"Oh shit, sure."

He then let go of the backpack strap and shoved his hands in his pockets, seeming awkward and suddenly uncomfortable. I swung that backpack over my one shoulder.

"So, there's nothing going on between you and Richtofen?" Tank asked.

I paused in thought, looking at him. I wanted to say something along the lines of "I don't know" or "I'm not really sure" but I felt as if that was the wrong answer to actually give. The truth is, I wasn't really sure myself. I crossed an arm over my chest, my mind instantly going back to the little known fact my friend had told me. I realized that I was, in fact, hiding something.

"No," I said finally, keeping eye contact with Tank.

Tank visibly tried not to look happy but nodded. "Alright, good," he said before moving around me. He stopped before he stepped out of the doorway. "By the way, Richtofen wants us by the mainframe in about five minutes. Don't be late."

"Okay."

And with that he left and with the five remaining minutes I had I came to terms with one thing; I was hiding feelings, if romantic I wasn't sure, for a certain Nazi doctor.

* * *

><p>"Ve're leaving zhis place," Richtofen announced, kneeling beside the controls next to the teleporter mainframe.<p>

(1) "Saigo ni," Takeo whispered in his own language. The only reason I heard him was because I was standing right next to him.

"So where are we going next?" Tank asked, his voice sounding uncertain. That was unusual for him.

"A cinema."

"Wait, what?" I let out. "We're going to a movie theater?"

I actually wasn't supposed to let that out of my mouth, in fact, it was supposed to a be a private thought and obviously came across as rather harsh. All of them were looking at me.

I tried to cover myself. "I mean, why?"

I felt my face get hot as all of them turned away except, of course, Richtofen, who looked straight at me. He even answered while looking at me.

"Zhis particular theater vas supposed to be zhe unveiling of experimental veaponry and zhe teleporter system," he finished before looking back, expertly splicing wires and reconnecting them with a flick of his wrist. He was good with his hands, I noted, not realizing the deeper meaning behind the unconscious statement. I blushed deeper. Hopefully that one didn't come blurting out of my mouth. "Ve must go zhere because some of my notes are zhere and hold zhe key to ending zhis once and for all."

Nikolai chuckled. "And I was just starting to have some fun."

Richtofen visibly rolled his eyes and sighed, not commenting.

"Will there be zombies there too?" I asked, instinctively knowing the answer already. Maybe I just wanted to solidify my fears so I could reason with them without any further doubts or questions.

Richtofen stopped his work and looked at me once again, his eyes less harsh then they normally were. It almost looked as if he didn't want to say it. "Sadly, I believe so," he said before looking back. I bit my lip. He then, to my surprise and joy continued with, "But, if my assumptions are correct zhe zombies vill be few. It should take zhem at least a week or so to relocate us and begin hording. This cinema is rather far avay so possibly longer."

All of us seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, like a weight was lifted. So, it wasn't just me who got worried. I smiled a little, though it was weak. At least this way we'd have a week to recuperate and rest.

After that comment everyone left to go gather supplies and whatever ammo was left so we could bring it with us. I was about to leave when Richtofen stopped me.

"Tabitha, I need to meet vith you later," Richtofen said, not looking away from his current task.

"Why?" I asked, hesitant for his answer.

"I need to see your vounds and replace zhe bandages. Zhey are starting to get rather dirty, ja?"

I didn't answer at first which made him look at me. I instantly nodded. "Oh yeah," I said finally, still nodding. "I'll meet you in the labs?"

(2) "Nein, too open. I don't vant zhe imbeciles vatching us. Zhe room vhere you do your coding vill do nicely. I'll be zhere in a half hour, don't keep me vaiting," Richtofen said, his face neutral. Even though he was talking to me I could tell his mind was elsewhere, in deep thought about what was about to happen next. He looked back to the wires beneath the small console.

"Yeah, meet you there."

I then turned and left, feeling like I was going to pass out from embarrassment.

* * *

><p>I walked into the room where I did all my coding and saw Richtofen there. His back was to me but I could see that beyond him on the desk I usually sat at there was a bottle of vodka, new gauze and tape, and rather hazardous looking needles.<p>

"Oh, your here. I vas getting vorried zhat you had forgotten."

I instantly looked up from the desk to see Richtofen now facing me, his bright green eyes already scanning over me. I tried my best to act natural but it didn't seem to be working. Even though I could keep eye contact I couldn't stop messing with my hands.

"Shall ve begin?" he asked, a sick smile spreading over his face.

I shrugged and limped over, my calf still hurting slightly. "Where do you want me to sit?"

He chuckled. "I need to take zhe stitches from your leg. You von't be sitting for zhis one."

I was instantly concerned and literally tried to rip my thumb off. He then moved and I noticed that even though there were various objects on the desk there was still plenty of room for something to lay on it.

"You vill be laying on your stomach," he stated, pointing. He didn't continue which was a sure sign that he was waiting for me to follow his order.

I approached the desk and jumped up onto it, sitting at first, before leaning and rolling to make myself lay on my stomach. I put my arms out in front of me and laid my head on them in a faulty attempt to get comfortable on the dirty wooden desk.

Richtofen instantly went to work. He rolled the leg of my pants up to my knee and shoved it up until it was tight around my thigh so it was clear out of the way before he started stripping the old tape of the bandaging. It took him awhile to get the gauze free because of the sheer amount of tape needed to keep it from coming loose. He then unrolled the gauze and began to examine the wound.

Meanwhile, I was inwardly cursing myself because I hadn't shaved my legs in two weeks. The mere fact that a man was looking at my legs while they were in such condition made me cringe.

"It's healing vell. Zhe tissue is scabbing and it's zhe right color. Does it itch?"

"Sometimes," I huffed, not really wanting to talk. It was already bad enough that I had these...feelings but now the guy that these feelings were rooted in was touching me. Now, not to sound prude or anything, but any man that I had feelings for in the past - whether those feelings were good or bad - had never touched me.

Now, another thing I want to make clear - more with myself than anyone else - is that I didn't know what these feelings were. In truth, they scared me.

First, every time I was around him my stomach started to feel odd, like it when I ate something that made it upset only it wasn't a bad type of upset. This upset, on the other hand, felt like tiny terrified birds that were trying to fight their way out of me. Second, my chest felt tight and hot like someone shoved a cherry red fire poker next to my heart. And third, and possibly the most disturbing, is that despite all these uncomfortable feelings I still felt like jumping and laughing while I was around him.

Like I couldn't control myself.

I felt him begin to snip and pull the stitches from the bite mark on my leg. I tried to ignore the feeling because it was gross.

I simply concluded that it was fluke, that I was sick, and nothing more. But, if this was a fluke why would Tank confront me on that matter? Did he see something that I didn't?

"Your very quiet today Tabitha," Richtofen said, his voice very soft and low. I could tell his mind was on the task at hand but I couldn't blame him for noticing that I was unusually quiet. "Is zhere somezhing vrong?"

I paused at that question. Could I honestly say anything without giving the reason away?

"Uh, no," I said finally, sounding more unsure that I actually meant it to sound.

"Zhat vasn't a very convincing answer," Richtofen said, his voice still soft and neutral. Then, I felt something on my upper thigh; it was his hand. I gasped. He squeezed. "How about ve try zhat again, hm?"

My brain was instantly firing at a million miles a second. His hand was literally right below my rear and he had squeezed! My stomach started to churn in uncomfortable yet oddly soothing ways and I tried to focus on something else, anything besides what was going on but it wasn't working. My face started to get hot.

"Nothing's wrong," I said, my voice somewhat steady despite the situation. "I'm fine."

Richtofen hummed to himself and continued his work for a few more moments, taping up my leg and wrapping it in fresh gauze. Much to my relief his hand moved so that he could wrap the wound properly.

"Sit up. I need to check your arm."

I sat up which put me face to face with him. My face was still warm. I didn't like this.

"Take off the jacket."

I took off the jacket and placed it over my lap. I suppose it made me feel more comfortable because, honestly, I was looking for any way to hide myself from him.

His eyes met mine before he continued working. "You've been acting very strange lately Tabitha," he said, not looking at me as he started taking off the bandages. "Especially around me. Do I make you uncomfortable?"

I looked away from him. I honestly just wanted to ignore his question, pretend that I didn't hear him. At this point I would have claimed I was mentally handicapped just to get out of answering this but, alas, I couldn't. I looked back.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Then vhat vould you say?"

He was looking at me now, his green eyes curious and his lips pressed together so tight they seemed invisible. I stared at him, looking for words when all of a sudden his hand squeezed my arm. I winced, trying to jerk away. I gasped, feeling the scratch marks on my arm scream at me to get away from whatever was bothering them.

"Stop that," I demanded, suddenly angry.

"Stop vhat?"

"That," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Vhat am I doing Tabitha?" he asked, his voice venomous and evil. In that moment I knew why the feelings scared me. It was because, in truth, the man that produced the jumpy, happy feelings that made me uncomfortable also happened to scare the living shit out of me.

I mean, what would make a person want to be so close to a person who loved hurting them?

"If I tell you," I said, my voice tight, "will you stop?"

"Yes."

I stopped, trying to think of a way I would word this but I really didn't have any time. He kept squeezing which kept making my arm twitch and squeal in pain. Richtofen was still looking at me, expecting an answer that I didn't really want to give him.

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes, ashamed and afraid of what his reaction would be.

"I think-" I stopped, wincing when he applied more pressure. Probably because he liked to see me in pain.

"Vell?"

"I think I kind of...like you..."

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><p><strong>DUN DUN DUN. CLIFFHANGER! Muhahaha. Tune in next time to see whether or not Tabitha makes it out alive. <strong>


	8. Chapter 7

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

None.

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**I'm sorry if this chapter is horrible!**

**I've decided! No mystery boxes; or at least not the ones we're used to. You guys will probably see them come up in the next chapter or so. Also****, I've decided to make Tank a sort of awkward pissed off older brother figure to Tabitha. Because everyone needs someone to be a little overprotective. **

**Thanks for all the support. I really appreciate it. **

**P.S. TooLazyToLogin belongs to XxLadyChaosxX. If you ain't her, don't use that name. Got it? Good.**

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><p>Richtofen's hand instantly removed itself from my arm and he took a step back, his green eyes that once held interest and curiosity now held something that fell between the cracks of confused and shocked. His mouth was open just slightly as if he was about to say something but his voice seemed to escape him.<p>

I bit my lip and looked away, not wanting to deal with this now. I didn't want this to be this way. I should have just kept it to myself. But, at the same time, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could breathe easier. The tightness in my chest had all but dissipated and my stomach stopped dancing itself into knots. Though the feeling of relief was short lived I still enjoyed it.

And by short lived, I mean it lasted about five seconds before being replaced with the immense feeling that I had just done something I would soon regret.

"You vhat?" Richtofen had finally found his voice and it sounded more like a strangled cry.

"It's nothing-"

"It's not nozhing!" He yelled, his green eyes still looking lost and shocked.

A silence fell over us both and in that moment there nothing I wanted to do more then grab a gun and shoot myself in the foot because, in all honestly, it probably would have been less painful. I looked back to him to find him still staring at me as if I had grown a second head.

"How could you-?"

"Do I really need to explain?" I snapped, feeling suddenly angry. I didn't like being stared at like some freak.

"I vould like an explanation, yes," Richtofen snapped back, his eyebrows knitted together in mild annoyance and fear. I could tell that he didn't enjoy attention and this; my feelings for him, was the exact attention he probably tried to sidestep.

I snatched a thing of gauze and, with shaky hands and more speed necessary, I began to wrap my arm. Richtofen watched me and the only reason I knew that was because I could feel his gaze burning into my skin. I finished wrapping my arm, my cheeks red and my brain racing ahead of my actions, before I slapped some tape on the gauze to keep it from falling off. I winced; maybe I slapped it too hard.

"It...Just happens..." I let out finally, my tone weak. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was stupid to think that telling someone you like them is a good idea, especially when it came with my luck. "Like I said, it's...nothing..."

Richtofen stayed silent, his whole body still like he was petrified and worse of all, he said nothing. I mean, it was already bad enough that he reacted the way he did but to just stand there and stare at me was cruel. I felt as if I saying this had ripped open another dimension where showing affection was the equivalent to the death penalty and I was being thrown on the chopping block in front of the whole town. In truth, the only reason I felt like this was because he was staring at me - no, correction - he was staring into my very soul without even looking into my eyes.

"Are you sure of zhese feelings? Have you considered ozher zhings, like your menstrual-?"

I cut him off. "Just stop right there. I'm not on my period."

"I'm just considering all zhe possibilities..."

I sighed and looked at him. He looked so lost and confused, maybe even a little scared, and I felt horrible because I knew I was the one that caused it.

"Zhe...feelings...your experiencing could be contributed to stress, a hormonal imbalance, maybe lack of nutrition?"

"Didn't I say it was nothing?"

Richtofen huffed and glared at me but there was no bite behind it, no actual feelings of hatred or anger and even I, who was a horrible people person, could tell this. "I don't believe you."

"You entitled to your opinion Richtofen," I said, my voice neutral.

Silence fell over us both again, our eyes un-moving from each others gaze as minutes ticked by. Neither would give in but neither had anything to say. I finally looked away, giving up, and reached toward my backpack. I needed to leave, to do something other than sit here but Richtofen moved and it was too fast for me to react. I couldn't even gasp.

I closed my eyes, expecting pain, even death, but what I felt was the opposite. His hand grabbed my head, the back of it anyway, and kept my face from jerking away from the pressure that had been applied to my lips. Both of our lips were chapped but, just like his jacket, Richtofen was warm. His lips left mine tingly and soon the feeling spread throughout my body leaving it hyper-sensitive and somewhat heavy.

And as soon as it happened it was gone. Richtofen ripped away from me with the same speed he had used to approach me and I was so far gone that I didn't even hear him leave. All I could hear was my heart pounding like a bass in my ears.

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><p>When we landed I felt as sick as I could have ever been. I landed on my stomach because the force of the teleporter throwing us out made my already shaky legs give out from beneath me. I didn't see anything at first, or maybe I wasn't paying attention, but it took my eyes awhile to adjust to the dim lighting in the place Richtofen had sent us.<p>

A theater, if I remembered correctly.

I felt someone pull me up and turned on them, gripping their forearm for support. I needed support right now, I thought to myself. After everything I went through today the last thing I needed was to be alone.

I was set up against a wall and suddenly Tank was in front of me, moving his mouth as if he was speaking to me but no words came out. I felt sick, I noted as I watched Tank perform his impression of being a fish out of water. I mean, why would a person move his mouth like that?

But then, I heard him in fast motion, his voice squealing in my ear. Time was catching up with itself. Funny thought really but right now nothing was making sense.

"Are you okay?" Tank yelled his voice finally normal.

"Yeah-" I managed but instantly regretted it. I felt it rising in my throat and instantly turned away from him so that what little contents of my stomach could empty itself onto the floor below. He just kept a hold on me so I didn't fall off the stage and patted my back so that I knew he was still there.

Once I was finished I wiped my mouth and turned back to him feeling a lot worse then before.

"Better?" Tank asked, his own voice sounding odd.

"I don't know," I said before remembering what was happening a few minutes ago. "I mean, you do look funny when you speak without using your voice."

Tank glared, his mouth pressed into a straight line. He shook me rather violently, making me look at him. "I was screaming at you dumbass," he said, blue eyes trained in on me. He was checking me over.

"Oh," was all I could let out before letting out a giggle. "You remind me of a retarded goldfish."

Tank scoffed. "Yeah, I think your fine."

* * *

><p>The next hour or two consisted of me getting my barrings back as I watched Nikolai and Tank try and pry open the leading to what would be the dressing room of the right side of the stage. Richtofen was trying the other, a metal door on the left side. I and Takeo were out for the count.<p>

Well, Takeo was. At least I was still awake. He's been knocked out cold since we got here.

I turned my attention back to Nikolai and Tank when I heard the doors locks finally snap. Tank stepped back, taking a moment to grab his gun before kicking open the door. No zombies, at least not yet.

* * *

><p>Once they had gotten all the doors open we began to find things. New guns, food and drinks from the bars, and even filing cabinets and files dating back to the beginning of World War II. The only reason I knew about the files was because I had rooted through them once I was able to stand.<p>

Damn my curiosity.

But that had been nearly thirty minutes ago. Right now I was in the dressing room, not really looking through anything in particular. Most of it was Victorian style dresses or suits or military uniforms on top of top hats and canes and dress shoes. Nothing of my interest really.

In all reality, nothing interested me right now. I was just trying to distract myself so I didn't think of the event that took place earlier today. I blushed at the thought, my hand gripping my backpack strap tightly while my anxiousness built in my stomach. I didn't need to think about this. I needed a distraction.

My coding! Of course.

I'd have to find a new room to code in privacy. It was a must. I had already taken too long, taken up too much time, and had even gotten sidetracked completely. I couldn't afford that anymore. God, Hudson must be fuming right now.

I heard a crashing and instantly tensed but relaxed when I heard Russian singing that eventually slurred into a familiar broken English accent. It was just Nikolai. He'd found the booze.

"Im'ma drink vodka to-" There was a break in the song tune, probably for a well needed drink. "Tonight!"

I giggled. At least he was happy.

I stepped out into a tiny ballroom. It had two sets of staircases, one on each side of the room that led down into the open floor below a once beautiful chandelier that overlooked a well stocked bar. Right next to the well stocked bar was a jumble of messily stacked chairs with what looked like a turret on top.

"Oh! Hey, it's pretty lady from future..."

"Hey Nikolai. Where is everyone?"

"Pullin' their peckers pro'bly," Nikolai answered with no shame.

I groaned. "How horribly honest of you."

"Wanna pull mine?" Nikolai asked with a laugh.

"I'd rather not," I said with a mocking tone, "thank so much for asking."

Nikolai shrugged as if to say "suit yourself" and continued drinking. I continued on my walk through the theater, running into Tank once or twice as I tried to memorize every little turn and twist in this place so I didn't get surrounded. The only person I didn't run into was the one my lips kept tingling for and that, despite my need to keep my mind on more important things, made me a little sad.

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><p><strong>Yeah, update! Review please!<strong>


	9. Chapter 8

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

Guten tag - Good afternoon

meine frau - my lady

mein lieber - my dear

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**Thanks for all the reviews and all the advice. I've been trying to keep consistent and it's been proving rather difficult because of school. I do need to graduate by May so sorry if updates come a lot slower then they originally did.**

**Also, the mystery box makes it appearance in this chapter. Not the one we all know and love (or hate, depending on the weapon that comes out) but this'll have to do. **

**By the way, in this chapter you see another side of Tabitha that, to some, may be a little freaky but, in reality, it exists! Just remember, curiosity comes hand in hand with fear and a very select few get off on that. Also, this is another 'point-of-no-return' chapters. This is no longer a innocent fiction. It's rated M for a reason. Enjoy. **

**Dragon - No, I consider everything that isn't an actual comment on the story spam and remove it because it saves other actual reviewers from seeing the crap that spammers and flamers put down. Also, it's called a sense of humor. Some people, when their sick, actually try to give light to the situation. I know I do and some other people who do it too. The whole goldfish comment was basically that. Just because you don't like OC's or childish humor doesn't mean my character has a a low IQ.**

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><p>You never really realize how bored you are until your sitting still. Or, that's what I believe anyway. The reason I believe this is because every time I find myself sitting, no matter where I am or what I had been doing before, I always find my mind drawing blanks and quickly dulling my mood. This time happens to be no different. Ever since we had arrived in the theater nothing had happened; no zombies, no explosions, no fights and not even the regular anger outburst Nikolai experienced on a daily basis.<p>

Everything was fine. Everyone had a chance to relax and kick back and do absolutely nothing. So, in short, there was nothing that needed to be done and thus far, nothing to run from or get angry at. I'm not saying I like the zombies but life was far more exciting when something is trying to kill you.

But, that certain something wasn't here and I was alone, in the now open projector room, doing more coding. My battery was half-way dead by now.

I had continued my practice of copying down the code and deciphering it by hand but still my computer was slowly draining from me. Soon it would be dead and I would actually have to try and keep myself occupied.

I had managed to burn through have the code in the amount of days I have been here. Sadly, I wasn't sure on the exact date because when I had fell through the teleporter the first time the date on my computer had been messed up. It read two days after I was recruited by Hudson and considering how long I had spent here I knew it couldn't be right.

I sighed, looking over the codes. The question marks were mounting and the code was becoming more difficult like someone who had been writing it was intentionally trying to hide it from whoever would have tried to decode it. Sadly, that person happened to be me and I was not enjoying it.

I shifted, getting comfortable on the desk I had found in the projector room. I cast a glance toward the cork board right behind me. I had stripped it of anything I had deemed useful because, obviously, it had something to do with the zombies. I had scooped it all into my backpack and decided I would try and translate it later. I also looked over the shelf full of nitrate films. Mostly war films taken by some unlucky guy with a camera and things that included Hitler's inner circle showing off new war machines coupled with advancements in science. Well, that's what Richtofen had told us and at this point I wasn't going to argue.

I actually wasn't even going to try and argue which, after all the stress and hunger that had plagued me, was surprising. But no, I found myself unable to bite back at the doctor who had spent most of his time since we got here rooting through filing cabinets and away from everyone else, especially me.

But then again how could I blame him? I had basically just threw up my feelings onto his lap and now I had to deal with cleaning up the mess even if that meant just staying away from him and waiting for things to blow over.

I went back to coding, my heart not really into it. How long did it take for things to blow over?

Hell if I knew.

* * *

><p>"Hold it still!" Tank yelled, shooting me a side glance that was highlighted with annoyance.<p>

"I'm sorry I'm not as tall as you, okay?" I snapped back, narrowing my eyes. I would have hit him but I was currently holding a board above my head. We had decided - me and Tank, that is - to prepare for the oncoming onslaught of undead by boarding up all the ripped up doors and open windows we could find. So far we had managed to do about three or four but it was proving difficult. I, for one, am short. In heels I come up to about five foot nine inches but currently, I wasn't in heels and stood at about five foot six. Tank and the rest of the boys stood about a head length higher then me.

But that's only the partial problem. Since I am short I can only hold the boards so high and since I'm not the most fit woman on Earth, can only hold it for so long without moving it. Tank, who is a military man with a short temper, is finding my weakness and inability to hold the board still where he wants it slightly annoying.

By slightly annoying I mean the last two windows have consisted of me and him barking at each other.

"That's not exactly the issue Tabby," Tank let out, pounding another nail in as he did so.

"Sorry I'm not Army tough," I snorted, eyeing him with anger. "I never really thought I'd need to actually board windows."

"Your telling me you've never went through any major weather storms?" Tank asked, pausing as he set another nail.

"If you consider heavy rain a major storm, then no."

Tank rolled his eyes and said nothing and continued his work. Silence fell over us both just long enough so that we got the board we were working on done. Tank was the one who broke the silence.

"Why have you and the doctor been, I don't know, awkward?" Tank asked, handing me the hammer. It was time for the lower boards. He'd hold them, I'd hit the nails.

I looked at my thumb and grimaced. It was purple from the last time I hit it with the hammer and it was pulsing in numb pain. I wasn't exactly looking forward to hitting again.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, trying to act oblivious.

Tank snorted and picked up a wood plank. "He's avoided you like the plague and all you've done since we got here was work on you little..." He paused, looking for words. I smiled. It was always funny to see them get confused about the technology I carried around. "Your portable computer."

I shrugged. "I've already taken long enough trying to crack the stupid code they gave me," I said, not completely lying. "Besides, it's something to do besides get drunk, sleep, get bored, or well...yah know. Anyway, I and he are on odd terms right now."

"Oh, I see. And, no, I don't know," Tank said without hesitation.

"Well, it doesn't really apply to me the same way but I think Nikolai called it 'pullin' yer pecker'."

Tank laughed, placing the board against the window. "Now, that's not a half bad idea."

"I suppose so," I said, trying to sound more against it then I actually was. Then again, no one would catch me doing anything here with the possibility of dying if I let my guard down. I'm too paranoid and scared. I hadn't been able to relax since I got here.

I set the nail against the board and started hitting it. I wanted to get off this subject because honestly, it was more awkward then friendly.

"Suppose so?" Tank questioned, looking curious. I noticed that his eyes had lit up. Pervert. "How do you suppose anything about that? I mean, come on, you gotta admit its fun."

I started hitting the nail harder and once that was done I set another, hitting that one harder then the first. It was done in no time. Maybe if I didn't answer he would drop it and leave it alone.

He leaned towards me, his eyes looking over me. I moved away slightly. He then pulled back, a grin on his face. I didn't like that grin. "You embarrassed or something?"

I shook my head, setting another nail and hitting it as hard as I could. "No, I'm just not saying anything."

"Why?"

"Because, I wouldn't know."

I moved closer to Tank, not be choice, and set another nail and began driving it into the wood plank.

Tank's eyes looked up at me and were wide as dinner plates. "Wait, what?" He covered his mouth with his hand, hiding his wide grin. He was laughing at me. Perfect. "You're a virgin? And you're like what, twenty something?"

"It's a personal choice."

"Oh, that's what you're calling it?" Tank asked. I could tell it wasn't really a question. His voice said it all; he was interested and planned on poking around until he found something he could use.

I banged the final nail into the wood and turned to him, literally slamming the hammer down. I glared at him, my mouth pressed so tight together it could be air locked. I knew I was bright red because my cheeks were on fire but I ignored it. This was personal, something I had chosen to keep sacred, and I wasn't about to have some man just poke fun at it.

"I've never got around to it," I said simply, standing to my full height. "And I don't plan on addressing it now, later, or anytime soon. Leave it be."

Tank stood, his hand wrapped firmly around the hammer. I noticed he was still smiling. He wasn't going to forget this and he'd use it to his advantage somehow, I just knew it. He then held his hands up in mock surrender and turned a little to pick up some wood planks.

"Alright," he said, "I'll leave it be. It's your business."

"Thanks," I said.

He nodded, not saying a word, but he was still grinning. I had a feeling this would come back to haunt me.

* * *

><p>That afternoon I stumbled onto the most intriguing thing I've ever seen in my life. Tucked back in the dressing room, under a bunch of close, was a musical box. Now, it's not like a jewelry box or something little girls have with ballerinas on top. Hell, I don't even think box would be the proper term for this thing.<p>

It was a crate, probably about two and half feet long, wooden, and designed just like an old weapons container from World War II. It had a hatch on the front and along the top on the lid, instead of order numbers or a list of destinations; it had a question mark very simply carved into the top. It was jagged and cut awkwardly like it was done with a combat knife.

Now, the music was a different subject. It sounded like a little jingle, something kids at the playground would hum, and it was coming from inside. It actually sounded like that silly monkey toy that Takeo carried around. I admit, it was an odd contraption but it got work done.

I was a little hesitant to open the box but did so anyway. Damn my ever present curiosity. Oh well.

At this point I stopped caring. I had already scared off Richtofen with my stupid confession and with no one looking over my shoulder - not saying that he was - I really didn't feel obligated to answer anyone's questions. When the lid finally flopped over the back I saw nothing that caught my interest. It was full of little paper shavings and pieces of soft wood shavings to keep the stuff from getting damaged. What that stuff was...who knew?

I started rooting through the box, scattering shavings and paper everywhere. At this point I can honestly say that finding something in the box wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind. I thought back to Richtofen. I hadn't really scared him, had I? I mean, I had told him how I thought I felt - even though stress and the constant chance of dying could contribute to that - and he, though obviously scared and confused, had kissed me. Well, I mean, it was more like an awkward lip pressing thing but I considered it a kiss.

But the point was that he kissed me, not the other way around. Did he feel the same way? Was it an experiment? Or did he just do it to screw with me? This wouldn't be the first time someone's screwed me over.

I thought back to that moment, a moment when I thought a boy that I had a crush had actually liked me. Turns out it was a joke. His friends threw paint all over me in front of the whole cheer-leading team. I was the laughing stock of the whole school for the rest of the year.

What if Richtofen was just an older, German, Nazi scientist version of that stupid boy?

I huffed in anger, rooting further into the box with a sudden rush in my movements, before my hand finally brush up against something cold. I gasped, shocked by the sudden change of texture, and grabbed it tightly before tugging it out of the box. I instantly regretted it. I pulled it out only to drop it. Whatever it was it was heavy.

It was a gun, rather long, with black piping and dark brown wood stock with what looked like a bi-pod hanging off the barrel. It also came with some magazines of what looked like high-caliber bullets. After much struggling I set it down, magazines laid neatly beside it, and went back to the box. I dug further before finding some more weapons. After the rather large gun I found two smaller rifles, both all black and made out of nothing but metal, a monkey, and one more gun, about the same size as the others, but only this one was a tan almost beige color with a handle on the front and magazine toward the back.

I double checked and then found a shotgun at the bottom and set that out too.

I set the all out in front of me, respected magazines next to the weapon I found them with, and gazed. I didn't know which one I actually wanted. They all looked pretty cool.

I then realized something; I needed to tell the guys and, most of all, I needed to remember to gloat.

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><p>"Oh boys!" I yelled in a friendly, sing-song tone.<p>

All of the men looked up to me from their current card game and gave me odd looks. I giggled to myself, already imagining their faces of surprise when I show them their new toys.

"I found something you might like. Come and see!"

I watched them all turn to each other and shrug before setting down their cards and heading my way. I waited until the hit the stairs before literally prancing back to the dressing room so that they could follow me. I waited by the guns, smiling, when they turned the corner.

And man, did I enjoy the smiles that grew across their faces.

"So? What do you think?"

Tank was, of course, the first to find words. "Where the hell did you find all this Tabby?"

I shrugged, pointing to the box. I was trying to act unimpressed and completely above their excitement but inside I was dancing. I felt important, I had helped. It was like me actually succeeding in throwing my dad a surprise party all over again. I couldn't help but grin just a little more.

"That's what you get when you go rooting through stuff," I said simply, watching Takeo pick up the monkey with a huge grin on his face. I faltered a little. His obsession with that thing was a little unnerving.

Tank picked up one of the all black guns, the one that reminded me of all the stereotypical movie rifles that the military guys used, and aimed it with his eyes focused down the sights. He was grinning like a kid in a toy store getting his new favorite action figure. I felt all warm inside.

Nikolai picked the huge gun with the bi-pod and chuckled, saying something about big guns. I had a feeling he wasn't talking about the one he was holding. I cringed. I didn't need mental pictures.

Takeo took the shotgun, happy to fill it with shells and test out what seemed to be a collapsible stock before slinking off to get acquainted with his new toys. He gave me a thankful nod before leaving which, for Takeo, was normal. He was a man of few words and even fewer visible emotions. I honestly believed that's why he was a good listener.

"Where's your's Tabby?" Tank asked.

"Oh, I picked this one. It looks kind of fun."

At that point I was holding the contraption. I liked it. It was somewhat brightly colored and small, something I could easily use, and well, it kind of spoke to me.

Tank nodded in approval. "It fits you," he complimented, shouldering his new gun. "Thanks for sharing this."

"Welcome," I said, somewhat confused by his comment. I chose not to say anything.

Soon he and Nikolai disappeared back to the stage leaving me alone again, or at least I thought.

"Guten tag."

I jumped at Richtofen's high pitched voice and turned to him. I had completely forgotten that he hadn't left. He had been so silent to begin with that I hadn't even noticed his presence when the guys first followed me in here.

He stared at me, his green eyes as electrifying and scary as ever, and held a barely noticeable grin on his lips. He enjoyed the fact that he had scared me, that much I knew. I gulped, standing my ground and straightening up, before saying anything.

"Did you pick?"

"Zhere vasn't really much to pick from, meine frau, so I simply settled for vhat vas left," Richtofen said, his accent suddenly very pronounced to me.

"I'm sorry you had to settle," I said, feeling hot. I hated his eyes, I really did. They looked everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Always focused on one thing but yet, focused on everything all at once. It made me nervous.

He grinned a little more, his eyes scanning over me before coming back up to make contact with mine. Richtofen set down his gun and moved closer to me and suddenly, despite everything I had went through over the last week or so, I froze. Now, whether it was in fear or because he grabbed me and backed me into the weapons crate, I had no idea. Probably a combination of the latter.

His finger ran slowly along the side of my face which made my cheeks light on fire and my mouth go very dry. Richtofen looked down on me, his eyes locked onto mine, with an almost sinister smirk. "Are you alright mein lieber? You look flushed."

"I-" I choked, I admit it. My brain couldn't even process what the heck was going on. "I'm fine."

"Good," Richtofen said, his voice giving an almost darker tone to that one word. "I'm glad because I have questions for you."

"Wha-ahh!" This is the sound I made when his suddenly grabbed my legs so that he could lift my body onto the lid of the now closed weapons crate. When had I closed that? Had I closed that? Did he? I couldn't answer; my brain wouldn't come up with answers fast enough.

I tried to bat his hands away but by the time my hands were at my legs his hands were gone and planted on either side of my waist so I couldn't move or escape. Either way he could catch me.

Was I going to die?

I pushed that thought away and looked at him, trying not to show that I was scared, but probably failed. His grin was almost sick and twisted but, at the same time, interesting. It kind of drew me in but I didn't move. I was so conflicted right now that I honestly felt like I being ripped in two. One side of me said that this man was going to kill me, rip me apart piece by piece and that he was something I should stay away from but, on the other side, I felt drawn to him, wanting to figure him out. My overabundant curiosity mixed and mingled with the overall uneasiness and made my fear into something altogether primal.

I wanted to search him, reach into the confines of something unknown and pull out something I could play with. I wanted to know whether or not he'd pull my hair in anger, whether he'd growl or bite, or maybe even hold me down.

He was trying to scare me, tell me to go away, yet my gut and my chest and my very being was telling me to go forward and take a firm grip.

"You don't scare me," I said unintentionally. Where I even got the courage to speak was unknown at this point.

H wasn't smiling anymore. Richtofen's one eyebrow shot up faster then a blink of an eye. "Oh?"

"No, I mean-," I stopped, trying to think straight. Fear no longer clouded my mind but something else; a haze over over-attentiveness was suddenly making me notice everything. His hot breath, how close we were to each other, and even his eyes seemed brighter. "You do scare me but not in the way you'd think."

"And vhat exactly do I zhink?" The statement was a challenge and for some reason I wanted to smile. I didn't of course but God, the urge was biting at me.

"I think that you think that I'm going to piss my pants every time you do something like this," I said, not even sure where it was coming from. I had to stop myself. "But you're wrong."

Richtofen gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed in a peculiar fashion that almost seemed interested. "And vhy is zhat? Tell me."

I squeezed my legs together and bit my lip, turning my head away from him. I wouldn't say that, no, not after what had happened last time that I had been so straight forward.

"Vell?" Richtofen pushed, his hands turning into loose fists beside me. His patience was thinning. "Tell me vhy I'm wrong."

"I can't."

"Vhy?"

"Because you'll freak out like last time," I said simply, still not looking at him.

"Just tell me."

"No."

Richtofen growled and moved, grabbing a little bit of my hair and pulling. It made me gasp but I could tell that wasn't the hardest he could have pulled and this, along with getting my attention, was just a warning. He made me look him in the eyes. I squeezed my legs together tighten, shifting, and this time he noticed. I didn't have to say it. He knew now and I could tell by the way he suddenly grinned. It was small but effective.

"You like zhis, don't you?" Richtofen asked, not really looking for an answer. "You like me doing zhis to you? Being zhis close?"

He let go of my hair and I looked at him, willingly this time, and nodded weakly. I was out of breath for no reason and my chest felt tight. "I don't like pain...if that's what you're saying..."

"No," he said before adding, "Scaring you. I scare you and zhat is somezhing you enjoy."

I didn't answer. The cat was out of the bag now. Actually, it was new to both of us. Before now there was never really a man I had been afraid of and this had never before in my life come to light. I was disgusted and at the same time reassured and happy. I didn't know how to feel right now considering that I just found out being scared gets me going and the only person who scares me is hovering over me so I can't escape.

"You think I'm disgusting, don't you?" I asked, not wanting an answer.

He shook his head before moving away from me, a smug smile shown on his lips. He seemed satisfied and overall, pretty pleased with his discovery. He shrugged, straightening out his clothing and adjusting his hat before grabbing his new weapon. "If anyzhing, mein lieber, it makes my job easier..."

And with that he walked off away from me, once again, with more questions then answers. But one question stood out above all others; what job was he talking about?

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><p><strong>Chapter done! Another one down! Hazzah! Review if you liked it. <strong>


	10. Chapter 9

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

mein lieber - my dear

Gute Nacht - Goodnight

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**Hello! Well, another chapter but, before we start, I'd love to say thanks for all the great and awesome comments and all the pointers you guys left me! I thoroughly enjoy every last one. **

**Okay, well this chapter, first of all, was very difficult to write and I don't exactly feel too great about it. But, thats okay, because it's mostly a filler for the next one. However, this chapter does add a little romance to the already developing relationship and welcomes back our number one fans; the zombies. Yes, their back and their ready for blood. **

**Also, Nikolai and a embarrassing 'shower' scene - even though it's not really a shower. **

**Plus, beta readers? I was wondering if anyone actually knew what was going on with that software and if, by some chance, if anyone was interested? Message me. **

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><p>I'm sure that a lot of people realize that words hold deeper, more complex meanings than the actual words themselves. The way you say them, the way you phrase things, even the things you do after you say those words makes the meaning behind ever sentence you say. Example; if I were to say something made me happy a person with a trained eye could tell if I were lying. If my words were tight, if my jaw was clenched, or if I looked away from them and refused eye contact that could give away so many things.<p>

Now, Richtofen was the perfect example of someone in complete control of his actions right down to the simplest twitch. Well, he was when he wasn't mad but even then he gave off a sort of vibe of containment. He was the master of lies and deeper meaning and I, being a person who was normally good at reading people, could tell this.  
>He, after all the people I've meant and managed to figure out, is the hardest to sift through. He has so many details, so many unsure and blurred lines, too many missing fragments for me to simply get a feel for him. It shocked me at how much I didn't know him.<p>

Tank, Nikolai, and even Takeo were so much easier to read then him. They didn't really have secrets - none that I could see or pick up on - and they just let life and the will to survive rely on mainly pride, honor, and - in Nikolai's case - the occasional shot of booze. They just let their actions speak for them. They made it seem as if they had nothing to hide but Richtofen was the exact opposite.

He had plenty to hide and I, of all people, should know.

While we've sat in this theater for the past two days I've been hard at work cracking the code that Hudson had given me in my free time. I figured that since my computer would die soon that I should probably get as much as I can do before I go back. Well, if I go back. I'm not sure how I would get back.

Besides that, the code that I've been cracking had gotten progressively harder, as if someone else started writing it. The first few pages, the first of the codes I had cracked, were linear, easy stuff that I could easily write down within a few hours but now the code had taken a strange and obvious turn. The code, while still linear, wasn't as clear. The words were choppy, short, and to the point where they would only make sense to its writer. Even though I didn't understand most of it I was still able to make a concrete connection.

The writing, such as sentences and punctuation, were the same as the notes I had found it the filing cabinets scattered all over the theater. All of the notes that were in the theater were signed by our one and only Richtofen. I found it hard to believe that this was a coincidence.

Now, even though the code had shaken me a little the words that Richtofen had said to me not even a day before shook me to my very core. Why you ask? Words hold power; words hold deep, instinctual meanings that connect with memories, smells, and even dreams. He had mentioned a 'job' that was somehow connected to me and me, with my odd emotions and my attraction to him, had somehow made his 'job' all the more easier.

Normally, I wouldn't be bothered by this but, considering what the code and the scientific notes in my hand are talking about, I'm pretty positive his 'job', whatever it may be, involved me coming to a rather unfortunate end.  
>Then again, on a side note, words can be misinterpreted. My hobby of cracking codes, my father, and my college professor has always told that words are meaningless if misunderstood. His 'job' could be something else entirely and considering my fascination with him his 'job' could be as simply as getting to know me, becoming my partner, or even - on a crude degree - getting into my pants. He was a man after all and, from experience, all men, at one point in their life, had thought about one night stands or playmates.<p>

Plus, unless he was gay, there wasn't really much material to pick from besides me.

So, maybe, on a positive note, he wasn't going to kill me and turn me into a mindless flesh eater. But, like I said, words can be easily misinterpreted.

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><p>At night we played games, all five of us. I had gotten a hold on poker and found myself rather safe within my stash of cigarettes I didn't smoke, alcohol shots, and bullets. In short, I wasn't losing this time around and this time we used stuff we had found around the theater instead of tally marks to determine winners.<p>

Tank was winning of course. I was still convinced he was cheating so I was, contrary to popular belief, rather irritated by it.

Richtofen was also doing well, Nikolai was just behind me, and Takeo was losing hard. He only had one cigarette left.

The lighting didn't help either. Since we didn't want to attract any unwanted attention in the night we simply found candles and lit them. It was bright enough to see everyone's faces outlined by harsh shadows. It was hard to see but it was still fun.

Now, if I remembered correctly, cigarettes were highest on the point scale, second being alcohol, and last being bullets because, in truth, they were rather abundant. I had a bunch of all of them so I wasn't exactly sure on how many points I was ahead of the other players.

"I'll raise," Tank said, looking around as he set in his bet. He didn't make eye contact with anyone for more than a second so I could tell he was bluffing. Plus, he smiled when he was nervous.

Everyone groaned and put in except for me and Takeo, who folded with a frown. I smirked.

"I'll raise you two cigarettes," I said confidently. Everyone looked at me, their faces all looking rather confused.

"What?" Tank asked.

"You heard me," I said still smiling.

Richtofen folded, Nikolai rose as did Tank but he made the bet higher. As did I. Soon, Nikolai folded and it was just use after the third pass. We had to show our cards.

"You first Tank, only fair," Nikolai slurred out, actually sitting up because he showed genuine interest.

"Nah, ladies first," Tank offered, barely grinning. He was nervous. Good.

"Alright," I said, setting down my hand. An ace and queen. "Beat that."

Tank cursed and set down a ten and a nine. He had nineteen. I had twenty-one. I won. I reached out and took the pot, feeling triumphant for winning for the first time. Tank glared at me.

"How did you know he was bruffing?" Takeo asked, looking rather surprised that I had actually pulled that off.  
>I shrugged, simply stating, "He smiles when he bluffs."<p>

Nikolai and Takeo turned to him with the look of 'we got you now' on their faces but Tank and Richtofen looked at me, both sets of eyes unchanging in the flickering light. One of competitive hatred and the other of amused interest. It went on like this for a few hours, me and the others picking bluffs, but Tank was still winning. Turns out he had a hand at the game and was simply better then a girl, a Soviet, a Nazi, and well, whatever Takeo was. Imperial something or other?

I admit I wasn't fantastic at history. That and I was slightly buzzed off Vodka.

Soon, we ended the game, taking our respected shots before shuffling and dealing the cards once more. By now, I was drunk and feeling rather under the weather. I decided not to play this round.

"I don't feel so hot," I murmured. I could feel myself growing pale from the amount of queasiness. I looked around and saw that everyone else was still playing; they didn't even notice that I said anything. Maybe I hadn't said it loud enough?

I opened my mouth for a second try but nothing came out. I closed it, tasting acid and something metallic, and swallowed until the taste dimmed. At this point I was falling asleep, my eyelids feeling heavy but I didn't want to sleep. I knew this wasn't really sleep to begin with, I was passing out.

"Hey..." My voice was barely a whisper and when I looked up, Richtofen was in front of me. Then...nothing...

* * *

><p>I woke up to pitch black darkness. My first observation is that it was nighttime; it was cold, dark - the sun had set - and far away I could hear the muffled songs of crickets. Second was that I wasn't alone. A hand had been gingerly pressed against my stomach and somehow stirred me from a sound sleep. I reached out, gripping and trying to find something to hold onto, only to have my hand grabbed and brought to that someone's chest.<p>

I could feel their heartbeat. Slow, confident, not at all scared - unlike mine.

"You have avoken, zhat's good," Richtofen whispered, his voice still somewhat high-pitched but at the same time, soft.

I, for the lack of better words, was shocked. Had he stayed up the whole night? How late was it? Why was he even here?

"What are you doing?" I scolded in a hushed tone. "Why are you still awake?"

Even though I couldn't see it very well I could see him grin. He took my hand, the one he was holding, and brought it to his lips. He kissed it lightly.

"The ozher zhree fell asleep a long time ago," Richtofen explained, as if it told the whole story. He continued. "Someone needed to make sure you did not choke on your vomit vhile you slept."

"I threw up?" I asked, not remembering.

"All over zhe stage but ve understood vhy. No more vodka for you, ja?"

I nodded, not looking at him. Even in the night his eyes stood out, catching the tiniest bits of light so that they shone. I smiled despite myself. He was kind and caring in his own blunt, awkward way and I found myself enjoying it. "Thanks for, yah know, watching over me..."

"It's...not a problem, I promise you," he said before adding, "You interesting vhile you sleep. Rather...innocent, I must say."

Innocent. What a funny word. It meant so many things.

"That...would describe a lot of things about me," I said sheepishly. I was blushing again and I was really glad that it was dark so that he couldn't see.

"Oh, I'm avare, mein lieber."

Aware of what type of innocence exactly? That worried me a little but suddenly a wash of exhaustion fell over me. I yawned and instantly Richtofen set my hand free, pulling away.

"You are tired, you must sleep," he said, his voice instantly professional. "I vill see you in zhe morning."

"Good night Richtofen."

"Gute Nacht, Tabitha."

* * *

><p>The next day was one of those days that I really wished I had stayed asleep and believe me; it wasn't because of the hangover. The way I woke up this morning was the most alarming and terrifying thing that has ever happened to me.<p>

When I opened my eyes my vision was hazy to begin with and the pounding headache I had didn't make the sunlight shining through the open holes in the ceiling any more friendly but that's not what bothered me. What bothered me was, simply put, the undead thing standing at the foot of my little makeshift bed.

At first, because I had just woken up, I didn't realize exactly how dangerous this really was but it wasn't that long before my mind caught up with my body and started feeding it fresh panic. My heart went from beating a soft even pace to thumping against my rib cage in less then two seconds flat and my sleepy, sore eyes were wide and focused. All of a sudden, I was very much awake.

I tried my hardest not to scream and didn't care move. I observed the zombie right down to the tiniest details. It was in a Nazi uniform, like the ones from before, and was rotted almost all the way through. The clothes hid most of hid wounds but the bite marks and the missing left forearm told me that this guy wasn't one of the lucky ones. He had been attacked by a few others most likely, ripped apart for fresh meat, and once his body cooled down they left him to turn into one of them.

I tried not to gag. The mere thought of being eaten alive made my stomach churn but I put a hand over my mouth as quickly and quietly as possible. I looked over him once more, wondering as to why he hadn't attacked yet, and saw that his eyes had merely fallen right out of his head. He didn't see me, he couldn't, and he was probably more confused then anything.

Richtofen explained that they worked off two simple yet precise senses; sight and hearing. Their eyesight was unmatched compared to other humans and because that's where most of the virus is located - making the yellow color - the eyes would never rot. They had to be removed or fall out on their own due to other rotting parts. Their hearing, he had told us, was close to dogs. They used it to sense movement, track victims, and even locate others like them. They hunted in packs and spoke to each other, he had mentioned.

But why was this zombie just standing there?

It could smell me, it couldn't see me, and so the only thing left was its hearing. Maybe he heard me breathing at night and simply waited for me to speak or make a major movement to confirm I was food? Or maybe he liked me? I had no clue and I wasn't about to sit and find out.

I took my hand - the one that wasn't holding my nose and covering my mouth - and slipped it underneath my blanket. Sure enough, there it was. Over the last few days Tank had started making me carry a knife around for protection while we didn't have guns. He said it was to make sure we didn't shoot one another and to save ammo. I hadn't argued with him.

He had given me his old one; a military issued KA-BAR he had called it. He said that he hadn't gotten rid of it because he had gone through training with it. That he liked it and, since it had brought him good luck, he thought it might help me out some.

I took a hold of it and brought it up from under the blanket, bringing it to my chest like a child holding onto its favorite blanket. I watched the zombie's movements carefully. It turned its head toward me; ear first, to get a better listen. I could tell that this thing was unsure about what exactly it was listening to because it kind of groaned angrily, in frustration almost. I giggled inwardly, laughing at myself for almost thinking these undead monkeys actually used their brains for their intended purpose. How absurd of me.

I had to think clearly though because what I was about to do was nothing short of foolish. I removed my hand and braced it against the ground that I was laying on. I was going to jump this stupid thing and rip its throat open.  
>With a grunt, I propelled myself up and toward the monster. I really wish I hadn't.<p>

A loud bang shattered the tranquil silence from moments before the moment I decided to throw myself at the zombie. The things head literally exploded and I, the unfortunate sucker on the other side, got covered in everything. Blood, brain matter, bone, and, if I dare look down at my shirt, some teeth.

"Oh fuck."

I opened my eyes only to stare daggers at the Russian who stood at the doorway of the dressing room I had been sleeping in. I gripped the knife in my hand harder, wanting nothing more then to through it at him, but settled with just squeezing it.

"I'm...so sorry," Nikolai let out, trying to sound sincere. He had a grin on his face though. Sick bastard. "I didn't realize -"

"It's...fine," I choked out, hating the metallic smell. "I just...I need to get clean. Now."

"Uh, there is broken water pipe." Nikolai explained the best he could before adding, "Water was, last time I check, hot."

Well, that's the best thing I've heard of in a while.

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><p>Currently, I was under the consistent stream of hot water that was coming from the busted pipe that Nikolai had shown to me. I had managed to wash off all the blood and, to my happiness, get all the bone bits and teeth out of my hair.<p>

My clothes were, for lack of a better description, completely ruined. Now that I had had a chance to look at them I sort of regretted it. There was about a weeks worth of dirt on all my clothes and mud stains on my jeans followed by a giant rip on my left pant leg from where I got bit and blood everywhere on the front. My T-shirt, once my favorite, has rips, holes, and tons and tons of blood caked into the very fabric. Even my bra was ruined. Once white, now red and dirty and frayed.

I couldn't throw out my bra, I simply wouldn't let myself. I would never run around without a bra. My panties were something I had tried to keep clean while I was here and had managed pretty well so far. My socks were royally ruined. The only thing that was really keeping hold was my shoes.

Then there was Richtofen's jacket. God, that thing had basically become my miniature home and boy, was it comfortable. I had long since gotten used to the harsh smell of it and, after wearing it for a week, had managed to find myself quite happy within it's confines.

I let the water run over me as I let my mind wander other places. I thought back to last night when Richtofen seemed so caring and worried. He had watched over me during the night making sure that I didn't die from my own stupid decisions and that, despite the fact that it made me extremely nervous, lifted my spirits a little. He actually cared.

Well, he cared in his own little way.

I admit, he was awkward and somewhat...difficult and scary at times but, despite all that, it seemed that he was very well capable of mingling with people and holding a connection with them. In all honesty, he was a little like me. My doubts and fears and awkwardness toward feelings and mixed signals had driven people away from me, all of it being my fault for not reaching out. Maybe, in some way, Richtofen was similar. Maybe he had driven them away because he too was scared and unsure and simply couldn't deal with the uncertainty that came with people.  
>I know I couldn't and I could only imagine how he's line of work must had contributed to people suspicions.<p>

"Hey."

"Holy shit!"

Tank instantly turned around. "I didn't know you were naked! I'm sorry!"

I instantly stepped out from under the stream of water and, after shaking off some water, slipped Richtofen's jacket over my shoulders before pulling it closed. He was a small man and it was interesting to think I was tinier.

"Didn't Nikolai tell you?"

"No," Tank answered, not looking at me. I could tell he was nervous, maybe even embarrassed. "He just said you might need help."

I huffed. I'd have to hit that stupid drunk later but that was later, this is now, and currently I'm naked and Tank is less then five feet away. I wasn't exactly comfortable with this. "I need clothes."

"What kind?"

"Pants, shirt, no skirts or dresses. Socks maybe? Underwear too."

"Fine, got it. I'm gone."

"Good, thanks."

"Welcome." And with that he was gone.

Did I mention I was blushing? Oh yeah, big time.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed that little scene. Review if you please. Return of the zombies! Expect action next chapter! Enough of this lovey-dovey bull! I want guns. <strong>

**Until next time...**


	11. Chapter 10

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

None.

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**-Detective Ollie Spark - Richtofen likes to play with people. He never makes anything quite as clear as we would like. He does like her (surely, because he hasn't killed her) so his 'job', in truth, is to play with her, be with her, but in his own sadistic, playful way.**

**-LaurenIsCool - Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm glad to hear you enjoy the story.**

**-GamerGirl - She's basically all around but it's mostly written (like hieroglyphics, symbols, etc.) but not computer coding. The documents on her computer were originally on paper or recording that have been copied for her.**

**-Quack - There will be other mystery boxes but they have to be found. Mostly, the boxes are abandoned military artillery boxes that have been shoved aside or concealed under debris.**

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**My first ever Beta is: P3 LadyChaos (Hope I did the corrections right!)**

**Alright! Another chapter. It has flirting, zombies, some realizations, naughty dreams, more funny talks with Tank and possibly a hint at the future (depending, of course, on if you wanna see them bump uglies). I hope you like this one. It's mostly filled with crap but hey, I had no other way to really put it down. **

**As you can see their relationship is, in fact, moving along even though it hasn't quite been established as a relationship. Hell, it's taken them ten chapters to get this far. ****We also see Tank being the defensive, pissed off older brother clearly for once. We also see a mature side of this story. Don't flip out on me okay? I told you a while ago that there was no going back to that innocent bullshit. **

**Anyway, enjoy and review if you like. And, for those who do review, tell me whether or not there should be an eventual lemon/mature scene? I'm not sure on it but what better way to decide then to leave it up to the readers? **

**(Keep in mind that if I do decide to have a lemon it probably wont be for a while.)**

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><p>It started early in the morning, like so many days back at the factory, I woke up to sounds of my impending doom ripping through the boards on the walls and windows. They groaned in anger, hissing and spitting, reaching for me and wishing me to come closer.<p>

At first I was shocked, not wanting to believe that they had traveled all this way just to find us but the disbelief was short lived. Soon, I ran, grabbing the gun I had found in the box a day ago - a AUG from what the side said - and found the others. We were safe together, we protected one other or that's what I believed.

I stood next to the others while they bantered back and forth about what 'game plan' we should have. The whole time, which could of been no more then a few minutes, felt like it took years. I could hear the zombies ripping the board outward, groaning and hissing, screaming at us in anger that could only be matched by a starving mans rage. I could almost imagine the undead begging us to come closer, pleading with us to feed them.

"Tabitha, ve don't need your mind vondering today," Richtofen warned. I glanced at him and saw that he looked genuinely worried, as if he didn't want this either but, unlike me or the others who met the horde with fear and anger, he met it with a cool and collected yet cautious conscience. "And please, don't get too hurt?"

It was almost a joke and, to my own surprise, I actually smiled. "I...don't exactly plan on it Doc," I said, my tone almost playful.

His lips twitched upwards, a ghost of a smile that disappeared as soon as it came and I soon learned why. It wasn't the zombies. Tank stood not even two feet way, his blue eyes staring Richtofen down. I quickly realized that Tank, observing from a sidelines point of view, probably saw the quiet and playful banter between me and the doctor flirting. He wouldn't be far off but I'd have to play it safe. After all, Tank didn't seem to trust nor like the doctor and the fact that Richtofen - viewed as the most awkward man of the group - was getting the girl might ruffle his feathers.

We broke off into uneven teams. Takeo and Nikolai would cover the stage and front room, circling through the lobby and the dressing room. Me, Richtofen, and Tank got the alley and the two back storage rooms. Nikolai and Takeo's plan was easy; keep on the move and don't stop. Ours was a lot more complicated. One would post up in the storage room closest to the stage with the door to the stage closed so the zombies wouldn't sneak up behind that individual while the other two were in the alley covering each other as they took out whatever undead came their way.

By the time the plan had been set out the dead were on our tails. We all took off toward the front room, breaking off into our respected groups.

Once we all were in the alley Richtofen and Tank played a quick game. Richtofen pulled out a small gold coin.

"Heads or tails?" he asked.

"Heads."

Tank was with me. Great.

No dead had come yet so it was silent. I was practically bouncing. The suspension was killing me.

"So, you wanna tell me what's goin' on between you and the Nazi?" Tank asked, his voice to deep to be considered polite.

I looked at him with some measure of disbelief. "Really? Right now?"

"Yes, right now," Tank said, turning the safety of his gun off. I didn't know whether that action made his point stronger or if it was just convenient. "And tell me the fucking truth this time."

I sighed. "Who said I was lying last time?"

The first zombie came bounding out of the storage room in front of us and tripped down the stairs, literally.

Tank, with his reflexes of lightning, shot the thing before it even made a step toward us. He then looked back to me.

"I do," Tank said simply, his eyebrows furrowed, "Unless you can prove me wrong."

I growled under my breath. He had to pull this bullshit now?

"I wasn't lying, alright? I wasn't sure then and I'm sure as hell not sure now. I said no because I couldn't say yes confidently."

"So, you're saying you were cutting corners?"

"Cutting corners?" I asked, my voice a little higher then it needed to be. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you lied to save your ass," Tank said, his voice dripping with venom. His eyes glowed because of the sheer amount of anger. "You took the easy way. You said no when you could have said exactly what you said just now. You still lied to me."

"I didn't mean it-" I stopped and raised my gun, pointing just beside Tank. I hit the zombies with three or four bullets, killing it before it even reached him. I looked at him again. "I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

"I'm not exactly sure that I know much of anything anymore."

"What are you trying to get at?" I asked, my anger building. "Besides, it's not like we're involved or anything, why do you care?"

"'Cause he's a fucking murderer! He likes to watch people squirm Tabby!"

That I did know and it scared me even now.

Tank then raised his machine gun and took out a row of zombies that were somewhere behind me. He kept his gun slightly raised as he continued his speech.

"He's a fuckin' demented ass mother fucker who likes blood, guts, and fuckin' dead people," Tank said, his voice barely above his normal talking voice. The statement still held meaning though. Takeo, referencing to Tank, had once mentioned that he lead a group of marines. After that day every way I looked at Tank had been shifted. He was not some simple marine, he was a leader. Every time he talked his words held a clear meaning, the way he stood showed his status, and the very way he looked at someone showed how serious he was.

Tank was attractive and that was something that I could never deny but I couldn't see him as anything more then a friend. In truth, he reminded me a lot of my father. They looked nothing alike, had almost nothing in common, but when they got mad or had a point to make the way they fought were exactly alike. They weren't the explosive angry that I was. No, they were the vengeful, hateful and silent angry that could chill a person to their bones. Now, my father was a lot smarter then Tank, and Tank is huge compared to my father but they, in terms of how they won feuds, were something that couldn't be caged.

I shot another zombie and watched Tank out of the corner of my eye. He said nothing for a while and neither did I. Besides, there was no need to instigate. After a little while, just after the piles of undead bodies started to form, he spoke.

"I'm not saying I want to be involved with you," said Tank, his voice softer. "I'm just saying that I don't want to find your throat slit one day. You trackin'?"

I hesitated, shocked by his words and even more shocked that he felt protective. "I'm tracking."

"Good, 'cause if he breaks your heart or hurts you, I swear on my last breath, I'll kill him."

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><p>I collapsed, too tired to move and much less get back up on my feet. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, I could feel my fingers and legs twitch in response to every noise around me, and mostly of all, I could feel how disheartened I really was. My leg, still trying to heal itself, was throbbing in protest to my earlier actions and my ear, the one that I still could not hear out of, was popping every time I swallowed.<p>

My body was pulling its last straws and I could feel it breaking down on me. How lovely.

"You did good today," Tank said sitting next to me. "I didn't think you had it in you."

I rolled my head towards him with an un-amused look plastered on my face. "Well, thanks, I'm almost flattered."

"You should be considering when you first came here you couldn't hit a barrel," Tank commented, smiling somewhat. He chuckled. "What's even more embarrassing is the barrel didn't even move."

"Oh shut up. I never shot a gun before that day."

Tank grunted, shrugging like that was no excuse. "Why not learn early? You know, just in case..."

"I never really thought I'd have a reason."

Tank nodded, understanding, but still not convinced. "I mean, where you come from you live alone, right? Don't you need something to protect your home just in case someone, I don't know, breaks in?"

"I have an alarm system."

"Not my point."

I looked away from him, sighing. He did have a point. A gun and some basic self defense would have helped in the long run. Now that I look back on my old life I was rather naive and unprepared, and in the case that something could have happened, I would have most likely not walked away from it.

But now, I highly doubt that I would even be attacked. My paranoia had nearly doubled since I got here and, even though I'd hate to admit it, I don't think I'd be able to sleep without a gun underneath my pillow.

"I suppose your right," I admitted.

Tank grunted in acknowledgement of my statement but said nothing else. By the time I looked back to him he had fallen asleep. I followed soon after.

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><p>I woke up hours later with the extreme urge to pee. I stood, my body protesting every movement I made, and walked across the stage into the dressing room. I followed it through until I reached the dual-stair lobby and walked up the two sets of stairs so that I entered the little sitting room with the bathrooms on the left.<p>

I went into the men's room considering the women's was boarded up and did my business. I walked back out and expected to go back to bed but soon found myself distracted by a noise. The noise, though subtle, sounded as if something had been dropped somewhere in the distance. I didn't have any weapons on me and honestly, the smart decision would have been to go back and get Tank to investigate but I was tired. Who's ever smart when their tired?

I walked to direction from where the noise came, being cautious and silent, until I was in the front lobby. No one was there and everything was silent and it was dark too which didn't lighten the atmosphere at all. I mean, whats more creepy then being in a zombie infested theater alone in the middle of the night while hearing unidentified and odd noises? Pretty much nothing.

Something else moved, making a loud 'thwang' noise which made me jump out of my skin. I put a hand over my mouth and moved forward, toward the front entrance of the theater, trying to stay as calm and as silent as possible. I turned left, which led to the alley, and saw that someone had a light on. So, obviously it wasn't a zombie. That, or some zombie was munching on the person who turned on the light. I had yet to see someone or something that would give me an answer.

"God dammit!"

Okay, it was Richtofen.

I stood at my full height, feeling slightly calmer then before, and walked into the room in full confidence. I just now realized that I didn't actually have my backpack or anything with me. I had grown so attached to it that the weight had become familiar and now that I didn't have it strapped to me I felt light and almost naked without it.

I saw Richtofen now. He was sitting in a wooden desk chair in front of a desk with a bunch of papers scattered across it. He had a pen in on hand, writing something, and didn't seem very amused.

"You sound like your hard at work," I said, my voice hardly audible.

Richtofen heard it though, swiveling in the chair fast enough that it would have given me whiplash, and stared at me with an intense look on his face. But, the seriousness and initial shock of someone sneaking up on him faded, and he grinned slightly. He still looked frustrated but Richtofen had a habit of covering it pretty well. He set down his pen.

"I didn't know you vere avake."

"I just did. I had to go to the bathroom," I said, my voice still soft.

Richtofen nods. "Vhy are you down here zhen?"

I shrugged. "I heard a noise and thought...you know..."

Richtofen nods again, his face understanding. "I do," he says, as if he's not surprised by my reaction. His grin faded. "And vhat exactly vould you have done if zhere had been undead? You have no gun."

That was a fantastic question. "Ran, like usual."

Richtofen raised an eyebrow, out of interest or not I wasn't quite sure. But, his grin returned slightly. "I find your running razher interesting to vatch."

That comment made me blush. I knew all too well why men liked to watch women run and, to be perfectly honest, Richtofen was the last person I expected to look. Nikolai was easily understood, he was a drunk. Tank, hes a cocky American man who believes he's hot stuff and anything with boobs was free game. What Takeo liked was still a mystery to me. I had bets on the monkey toy he carried with him.

But, I decided to roll with it. Why not? I mean, he already knows that I like him and he's kissed me so obviously there's something there.

"So you've looked?" I asked, trying to flirt. Did I sound too insistent?

Richtofen chuckled. He looked away from me for a second and I noticed that his hat was missing, placed neatly on the desk in front of him. He looked different without it. He looked well without it.

He looked back. "Of course, vhy vouldn't I? You literally run past me everyday."

I nodded, knowing that was the truth but still, he could have simply ignored me. "Well, you could have looked the other way. I mean, there were zombies around."

"So true," he admitted, "But vhy pass up a free show?"

I gasped, shocked but flattered. But, I had to say something to counter it. "I'm nothing to look at," I said, being truthful. I wasn't much. I was a short girl with a mass of long black hair who was as skinny as the wood planks we used to board the windows and just about as flat. I really wasn't much to look at.

"Vhy vould you say zhat?" Richtofen seemed legitimately confused. "You look fine."

I shrugged. "If only other guys thought that."

Richtofen waved his hand as to ward off my comment. "Zhey do not matter," he hissed, as if the thought of other men looking at me made him upset. He motioned me over and at first, I was reluctant to move toward him but I ended in front of him somehow.

He reached out, tugging at the shirt I had found in the costume closet. It was rather nice, long sleeves, thin fabric and puffy, like a pirates shirt. It was baggy on me so when I ran no one saw my boobs bounce and, for that, I was thankful considering my bra, which I had originally planned to keep, broke. I had actually planned to wrap them soon but I couldn't find fabric long or good enough to try.

"You are...beautiful in your own vay," Ricthofen said, his voice hesitant and nervous. He also spoke slow, as if he was carefully planning his words. "You can protect yourself, your smart, vitty, and on a good day, very amusing and funny."

"Uh...thank you..."

Richtofen smiled. "You sound as if you're not used to being complimented."

"I'm not."

"And vhy is zhat?" He was looking at me as he said this.

I sighed, feeling nervous. His hands had moved, they were resting on my stomach now and moving down to rest on my hips. "Because, well, in the world I come from girls need to be tall and anorexic to be considered pretty."

Richtofen made a gagging sound. "My God, no. Never."

He frowned a little, his hands squeezing my hips in slight annoyance, before a tiny smile graced his lips. His eyes weren't looking at my face anymore. Suddenly his hands shot up, dipping underneath my shirt, and I gasped. His hands were cold and were on my stomach just beneath my breasts. I tried to pull away, yanking myself away in shock, but his one hand looped around to my back and held me in place. His other hand was still on my stomach.

I blushed deep red and I didn't have to look in a mirror to know that. My face was on fire along with the rest of me.

"W-what-?"

"I'm simply looking," Richtofen said.

"At what?"

He didn't answer of course, just remained focused on his task at hand. Whatever that was. His hand on my stomach moved my shirt until it was left just below my breasts, revealing my stomach. He looked over me with a doctors eyes, taking in every little detail. Every curve, every mole, every scar and little mark that graced my skin from the rim of my jeans to my rib cage.

I was squirming, not comfortable at all. I had never had a man look at me like that before. In fact, no man that wasn't related to me had ever seen me without clothes. Well, except for Tank - but that was an accident - and now, Richtofen. But, in truth, I didn't mind. Even though I felt as if I was being judged I felt safe. Heck, I almost welcomed him to look. His gaze flowed over me without skipping a beat, never pausing but always cataloging everything, and for some reason that really made me feel admired. I felt as if he couldn't get enough.

But, then again, I could tell he wasn't used to this. His hands were anything but steady even though his movements and his hold on me was as solid as ever.

"You are quite nice," he whispered, leaning down. He pressed his face into my soft yet flat stomach and inhaled, his eyes closed. He grinned like he had just discovered something and, even though I was looking right at him, I missed his tongue running over my stomach and up to my ribs. "And you smell good."

He moved again and this time I felt his tongue in a rather private area, his tongue flicked over my nipple. I let out a soft squeak. I didn't know how exactly to feel about what was going on but I did know one thing; that felt pretty nice and I didn't mind if he kept going. He was still sucking on my breast, grazing his teeth over the nub lightly. I closed my eyes for just a minute but when I opened them back up he was looking right at me.

I saw yellow eyes and blood.

And he was one of them.

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><p>I woke up screaming my head off, flying up from my laying down position, and instantly there were guns cocked and disgruntled noises of sleepy panic.<p>

"What the hell?" I heard Tank yell beside me. I looked over in the darkness, seeing him standing, and instantly felt horrible. He looked down at me, his eyes wild. He looked mad. "What the hell was that for?"

"Yeah, why do you insist on pissing Nikolai off?" Nikolai grunted, waving his finger at me.

"I-" I choked, my throat dry. I gulped. I instantly noticed the moisture between my legs and the sweat on my brow. It was a nightmare. Nothing more. It had been fake. "I just...had a nightmare."

No one said anything. All of us had our share of nightmares, some of them had even mentioned a few to me, and I had been witness to a few as well. They were horrible.

Tank sighed, setting his guns safety on and setting it back down where it had been. He sat back down. "Jesus Christ, you had me scared for a moment."

No one else said anything, well, not Nikolai and Takeo anyway.

"Come here," I heard from behind me. I jumped, turning to see Richtofen beside me on the opposite side. Tank looked over to him for a moment but said nothing and simply closed his eyes.

I turned and scooted closer to him. I wasn't exactly sure about what he wanted until he grabbed me and pulled me to his side, my head on his chest, and his right arm wrapped protectively around me. He sighed, looking down at me. He almost looked like he was smiling. "No more nightmares, ja?"

I nodded, leaning into him and completely relaxing. I felt completely safe. I closed my eyes and let him pull me as closely as he would allow.

"Keep it child friendly, will yah?" I heard Tank mumble under his breath.

I heard Richtofen chuckle before saying, "No promises."

I'd never admit it out loud but I'd have to agree with Richtofen. At this point, there were no promises.

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><p><strong>Done! Review if you like. I'd appreciate it! Thanks for reading. <strong>


	12. Chapter 11

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

Yebat' etot der'mo! - (Russian) Fuck this shit!

Oh, Gott sei Dank. - Oh, thank God.

Einverstanden. - I agree.

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**I decided not to write the lemon just because I'm not in the mood to come up with a scene and the perfect time and all that jazz. I decided I'll hint at it heavily, put them in interesting situations (which, I might add will be strictly adult) and such but sadly, no sex scenes.**

**Warning : Missing body parts!**

**Plus, a note from my beta: P3 La****dyChaos: I am also very sorry for the wait on this chapter, when PaperClipKiller sent me this chapter, I was already off to a competition of mine, but I hope that this chapter was worth the wait as it was very fun to correct this. **

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><p>What happened today was the most shocking thing that has ever happened in my entire life. Now, a lot of people would think I'm nuts considering my current predicament but this can probably top anything that had happened to me in the past.<p>

It all started this morning when I once again woke up to the beautiful nails-on-a-chalkboard screams of the undead. We all jumped into action instantly. We grabbed our guns, found our positions, and did exactly what we had done the other day only this time something went terribly wrong. At some point the number of zombies increased, and Takeo and Nikolai could no longer run through the lobby.

So they took a detour in my direction. Now, I can't blame them for wanting to get away from the massive horde but I was in no way prepared for what came next.

They bolted out the back door, jumping down the stairs without even trying to slow down, and it only took seconds before the zombies managed to stumble out the door as well. Tank had cursed somewhere behind me and started opening fire. I followed his actions, letting Takeo and Nikolai run past me.

"Tell Richtofen to bust down the door to the theater!" Tank screamed, sounding scared._ He never sounded scared. Something bad was going to happen__,_ I told myself mentally. "Do it now!"

I didn't see them leave or, at that moment in time, did I care. What was in front of me made my knees shake; the zombies kept coming, wave, after wave, after endless wave, it seemed. Their bodies piled up but they crawled over them, hissing and screeching at us. At that moment I felt as if the bullets I were shooting were doing nothing but making them angrier.

"Tabby! Move! Follow me!"

It was Tank. He had stopped shooting and booked it toward where Richtofen had been originally stationed. I looked around to see that Takeo and Nikolai were nowhere to be found so they must have been with Richtofen.

I drained the last of my current clip and started running after Tank. He had stayed by the security fence, waiting for me. I was grateful.

It was nice to know he wouldn't leave me behind.

Soon we were up in the back room where the reels for the theater projector were kept. Tank had slammed the door leading to the alley way shut. It was metal but it wouldn't save us much time. It took me at least a minute or two to gather that Richtofen and Nikolai were still unable to open the rusted back entrance to the stage. Takeo stood with his weapon in hand. He looked paler then usual.

"What's wrong with the door?" Tank yelled, pressed against the door to the alley. I heard yells from the other side. They were there and the undead would be breaking down that door in no time.

"Ve cannot open it! It is stuck!" Richtofen yelled. His voice was high pitched and didn't hold its usual steadiness.

Nikolai stood close by, looking much more sober then I had ever seen him. He also looked pissed.

I was convinced we were going to die here.

Nikolai suddenly strung his gun over his shoulder and pushed it to rest on his back. "Nazi, move," Nikolai warned, his eyes narrowed. Something had changed about him, something inside him had shifted. He was no longer brash and funny, this was a very serious Nikolai that I had never seen. "Yebat' etot der'mo!"

Richtofen moved and without a second spared Nikolai, who wasfurther from the door then I had realized, bolted straight at it and slammed his side against it. The door bust open, one of its rusted hinges completely ripped from its place. Nikolai stumbled back, rubbing his one arm.

"Door open, let's go now?" Nikolai asked, sounding impatient.

"Oh, Gott sei Dank," Richtofen murmured. I noticed he was sweating.

Tank grunted. I turned to see hands peaking out of the now open crack of the door. "Can we fucking go now?" He yelled. I could see he was struggling but then, he tripped and the door was suddenly very open. In a flash I was beside him and pushing.

"Go, we'll catch up!" I yelled.

Tank hissed and pushed harder. "Go around and flank them!"

And with that they were gone. They had been told what to do and they were going to do it for the sake of this team. Or, that's what I believed.

"Will they get distracted? I mean, when they-?"

"I don't know, I just didn't want them here...just in case..."

I shook my head. "Dont."

Tank nodded, just pushing to keep the door where it was. We both held for what seemed like forever. My arms started to hurt and my knees were starting to feel weak.

"What's taking them so God damn long!" Tank yelled. I didn't think it was an actual question, so I didn't answer. I didn't want to let the doubt that they'd be able to make it in time get to me. I just had to hope that'd they'd be able to clear the door. Finally, I heard gunshots on the other side and let out a labored sigh of relief. The zombies would be gone soon and we'd be able to let go of this God forsaken door.

But that's when it happened. One of the zombies grabbed a hold of my hand and pulled out taking my hand and forearm out into the flood of undead. Because of the sudden shift in my balance my face bashed against the door leaving me in somewhat of a daze. My nose hurt but that didn't compare to what I felt next.

Maybe I overestimated the number of zombies actually left outside the door but one of them bit my hand, more importantly, my fingers. I screamed, tears in my eyes. My hand I could feel warmth on my hand and I knew that it wasn't from the zombies mouth. More pain came, I screamed. I pulled, trying to free myself from the grasp of the evil undead creature.

"Let the fuck go!"

As if it actually understood me the zombie let go, not on purpose of course, but I was glad either way. I could that through the crack of the door there were no more zombies left. They had all been shot. For a brief moment I was extremely happy, ecstatic actually, and I started laughing. My brain was cloudy, my head was spinning, and I had almost died and I'm laughing. God what was wrong with me?

What came next was the worst.

"Tabby, please, do not look down."

"What?"

And of course, being the delirious idiot I am I looked down. What I saw didn't exactly make sense at first, it didn't click the way it should have, and for a second I thought my hand was just bleeding really bad from a huge bite but, per usual, I was horribly wrong. My fingers were fucking gone. Like detached. Bone showing, squirting blood type of gone.

The next thing I did was scream and very quickly Tank was in front of me, holding my face with his hands so that I would look and not at the wound.

"It's gonna be okay. Look at me Tabby. Its not -"

"My fingers -" I gasped, trying to pull my head away from his face. I felt my pulse in my ear. My heart was pounding so loud that I couldn't hear over it. I started shaking, I couldn't help it, I had no control. I was suddenly very aware of how much pain I was in. I screamed, my throat feeling suddenly tighter and my mouth really dry before everything just disappeared.

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><p>I woke with my head feeling like it had been cracked open and filled with a ton of cement. I felt stiff all over, my body refused to move as if I had been restrained even though I wasn't. And it was so dark. I couldn't see two feet in front of my face until my eyes adjusted and even then it was still hard to see.<p>

Then, I realized someone was talking.

Straining my head from all the dizzy feelings, emotionally and physically, I could hear Tank. His baritone voice let off into a dark and harsh whisper. Whom he was talking to was a mystery, simply because I couldn't see them, but from what he was saying I could pin it on Richtofen.

"Her fingers got fucking ripped off!" He hissed. I could almost picture his expression, stern and scary with a hint of concern or, depending on who he was looking at, murderous intent. "She doesn't belong here. She needs to go back."

Richtofen hesitated. "I understand your concern but it's just a few digits..."

A few digits? Oh, yes, now I remember. My right hand instantly traveled to my left wrist and grabbed hold. There was gauze there.

"A few digits? Richtofen, her fingers are fucking gone!" Tank looked toward someone else. "Am I the only one here who believes that a women shouldn't be in this situation? She shouldn't have to deal with this."

"I courdn't agree more," Takeo added.

"She is strong," Nikolai started, "but she's not...made for this."

There was a long silence, something that made me hold my breath and made my stomach curl into knots it had never been in before. Finally, Richtofen spoke but his tone was different.

"I understand your concerns but it is not our decision," Richtofen argued, "Ve cannot simply tell her vhat to do. She vill just get angry."

Tank growled. "Look, we get it, you like her. You don't want her to go but do you want her to die here?"

Richtofen took a sharp inhale, something that almost sounded painful. "Zhat is not-"

"That's what it's always been about," Tank said, his voice getting higher. "You were interested in her so the rest of us kept our mouths shut. You've like her from the beginning. And now you have to choose; her life in safety or a life like this where she could die the next day?"

I sat up, feeling sick, and coughed. All of them looked at me. Tank looked as if he had just got caught stealing.

"I think that's my decision," I said, my voice neutral. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Tank gulped, looking somewhat uneasy. "We were just-"

"I heard, alright? Now, got bitch somewhere else so I can sleep." With that, I laid back down and closed my eyes. I didn't sleep. My anger kept me awake.

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><p>When everyone finally cleared from the and I could no longer hear their deep voices nearby I sat up once more. I looked to my left arm and could see the gauze wrapped around my wrist. . I suddenly felt cold despite the fact that I was sweating.<p>

My fingers were gone. Which ones? I couldn't tell. My hand didn't feel any different inside the gauze, I could move all...wait, no, something was off. Inside the wrap I could feel my pointer and middle fingers, I could rub and feel the thin fabric, but once I moved my other two fingers I could feel nothing but dull pain.

My best guess is that my two fingers were missing all the way to the middle joint meaning that the pads of my pinky and ring finger were gone.

I bit my lip, looking away from my hand. I was tearing up, my throat was on fire and I felt as if my chest was going to explode. I closed my eyes, trying to prevent myself from crying, but it failed. The only thing I saw when I closed my eyes was the nightmarish creatures that haunted my waking life.

That night, when night had once again claimed the dilapidated theater, I found myself doing work. I had decided that the best way to keep my mind away from what had happened was not to think of it at all. In fact, I pretended as if it didn't even happen. It was apparent that my attempt to ignoring the matter was proving more difficult than not.

Every time I attempted to move my fingers on my left hand the wounds stung, the freshly exposed nerves and flesh becoming irritated with my movement, and to make matters worse the gauze kept snagging on random things around me. It's as if the universe had decided that I needed to face this and that I needed to unwrap the dressing and just come to terms with my missing digits. But, I couldn't find myself facing the dread of whatever was underneath.

I was afraid; not the usual shaking-screaming afraid, but the 'something-deep-within-me' afraid that said, losing limbs and body parts was not normal and wasn't something that should be happening to me. I never once thought that I'd be emotionally attached to my limbs but apparently, something in my gut told that I should be. What was that saying? The body is a temple so we shouldn't destroy it. _I think_. I didn't care.

I'm rambling.

I decided to stop working, at least for now. Besides, the coding was almost done and I'd be through with the assignment soon enough.

"You look pale," someone mentioned, causing me to turn.

I saw Richtofen. How he had sneaked up to me with a candle lit I would never know but for some reason I hadn't noticed it. Actually, over the last few hours I haven't noticed a lot of things. It was all a slight blur. Every change of light, every person that visited, even the conversations I had had were all rather hazy. It was if my body was moving in slow motion all the time, not able to catch up no matter how fast I seemingly moved. I vaguely wondered if this was what it was like to be in shock. Or denial. Whichever came first.

"Vhy don't you talk?" he asked, looking concerned. He set the candle down.

I noticed that it cast heavy shadows over his features making him look older. I wondered if it did the same for me. I also wondered if the scars and lack of sleep showed on my face as much as it showed on his. To be quite truthful, Richtofen looked like crap. He looked worn, sad, and maybe even a little angry. I couldn't tell really.

But then again, had I ever been able to figure out anything with Richtofen? Even now, I look back, thinking of all the conversations and little encounters we had, and I realize that I truly don't know him. I know him by what I see, feel within myself, and what I've read from my notes I've deciphered.

And oddly enough I'm okay with that. He knows nothing of me, knows none of history, knows not of my secret desires or thoughts, and most of all, knows nothing about my feelings.

So, we're even, he and I, on a completely leveled playing field. We knew nothing of each other or what to expect of this relationship we have. And with that, I'm happy because, in reality, if I were to die or if he were to send me away, there would be no regrets, no outstanding memories, and nothing to hold us back. Most of all, there would be little pain.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that despite the dark undertones, his sadistic personality, my insecurities, and this fucked up place we found each other in, our relationship is innocent. Untouched by anything that normal relationships have or had and fueled by general curiosity.

It's why I loved our relationship.

"I'm thinking," I say finally, looking at him. I was trying to focus on his face but his eyes caught my interest. They always have.

Richtofen nods, not looking a least bit relieved. "How are you feeling?"

"Do I have to answer?" I ask, trying to sound sarcastic. It failed.

"No, I suppose not," he says, his voice dipping down to be a whisper. It's also soft, comforting almost. It's odd coming from him. I like it.

I smile weakly, despite everything, and focus on him. He's here when he could be sleeping. He's here to comfort me, I realize, and from what I can tell he's trying so hard. No side comments. No sarcasm. No laughing, chuckling, or sadistic cackling. Nothing Richtofen would normally do has shown on his face since he sat down in front of me less than five minutes ago.

He changed so easily. He was out of control and yet more controlled then anyone I knew. He was insane yet normal. He was smart but silly. He was sexual yet reserved. Richtofen was a whole bunch of polar opposites put into one person and that excited me. Made me want to be near him. Spend time with him. Talk, sit, lay down or just exist - it didn't matter.

He was amazing to me.

"My favorite color is green," I finally said.

Richtofen looked at me, confused by my comment. His eyes looked over me, green flashes that turned gold when the candle flickered. I could see him try to pinpoint what I was doing, trying to figure me out. "Vhat?"

"My favorite color is green," I repeated, my motive unchanged. I wanted to see if he could figure it out.

Richtofen paused only for a second more before smiling ever so slightly. I could almost hear the gears in his brain clicking into place.I'd never felt happier in my life then I did right now.

He knew me. He could figure out my puzzles as much as I could figure out his. Evenly matched, like I said before.

"It is?" he asked, interest lacing his tone.

"Yep, has been since I was little," I said, my eyes focused on his.

"Tell me..." he paused, taking off his hat and settling down. "Tell me more about yourself, hm?"

I nodded. "But, you have to do the same."

"Einverstanden."

And that's when it started. That's when I started truly knowing Richtofen. That's when I truly started to love him.

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><p><strong>Review if you like. Until next time. <strong>


	13. Chapter 12

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

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**This is the second to last chapter. Warning you ahead of time. Next time will be the last time I update the story before the sequel comes out. The sequel is a little undecided as of yet but it will have a new character, new story, a few special guests, a new romance, and Tabitha will be making another appearance. **

**If you have any questions, ask. **

**But yes, Tabitha and Richtofen will have a more established relationship in the next story. The next story will revolve around Nikolai and some mystery girl. I won't reveal her quite yet. **

**By the way, don't take this cliffhanger seriously. You'll get why I left out so much detail in the next chapter. **

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><p>When I woke up the next day I found myself shocked at how quiet it was. There were no screams from the undead, no yells from one of the guys, and not even the sound of a single breaking board had pierced the early morning. What disturbed me most was that I wasn't used to it. I remembered when I'd wake up to the sound of birds chirping, my fan running overhead, and my next door neighbor yelling at her children. I found myself almost missing it at one point but now, everything was different.<p>

I had become so accustomed to the sounds of the horde that I had actually expected all the noises being there.

As odd as it was that I was not welcomed to these sounds, I found myself deeply confused by its absence. I sat up, my bones popping in protest, and looked around. I noticed that someone, most likely Richtofen, had moved me to the projector room during the night. I looked down to see myself atop a table with many blankets beneath me and his jacket acting as a makeshift pillow beside me. A long time ago this would have never been comfortable but now, there was little I could do about it. Actually, I found it rather homey.

I didn't move from my spot but rather, I looked down. My left hand lay bandaged next to me. It looked like a lopsided egg-shaped ball of gauze. Richtofen had taken no precaution with preserving supplies this time and had probably wasted two or three rolls to just wrap my hand, not to mention, he wrapped it thick enough to prevent infection. Despite his handy work I found myself rip-roaring mad.

I wanted to rip it off. The urge would follow me to scream, holler, cry, kick something, and then go rip the zombie who had taken my fingers in half, but, I didn't. Overacting would solve nothing, but then again, I had just had a part of me removed. I couldn't treat this as if it didn't happen and this was definitely not something I could openly accept.

My free hand trembled as I reached for the gauze covered limb, and I began to unravel the massive amount of white medical fabric. I had to accept this, it was something that I needed to see and come to terms with.

The wrappings had begun to pile in my lap at this point, and I began to notice that the bandages had speckles of red that gradually got bigger the closer I got to my hand. As the layers thinned, the speckles became blotches, which eventually engulfed the wrappings and turned once pristine white medical wraps, to red, dirty gauze. My hand began to tremble more and soon, the wrappings were gone and I looked at my hand. Only problem was my brain couldn't accept the fact that appendage was mine.

Out of the five fingers, I remembered two fingers that were now nothing but swollen, irritated stubs. The wounds were fresh, barely scabbed over, and were blazing red. They pulsed in pain now, angered by the air they were now exposed to.

I wanted to puke at first, but that slowly waned away into a more controlled response, one that I couldn't exactly describe. It felt like anger at first because it made my throat burn and made my chest ache but it had sadness, confusion, and maybe a little hopelessness thrown into the mix. I couldn't tell anyone how exactly this feeling came about, but as soon as I calmed my heart and sat there looking at my injured hand for a few good minutes; I could swear that it taught me something.

It taught me that I'd never be the same, and I could never go back.

Or, at least, I thought I couldn't.

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><p>Later that day, Tank came by to see me. He sat down in front of me, gun at his side, and he didn't look particularly happy. He allowed himself a quick glance at my injured hand that I had left unwrapped, and cringed, curling his lip up in what seemed like anger.<p>

He didn't say anything at first but soon the nature of his visit came out.

"We've talked about sending you back."

"And where was I when this took place?" I asked, not amused. I didn't want to deal with this now.

Tank smirked. "You told us to go bitch in the other room so, we did, and we've made a decision."

"And what's that?"

"We're going to have Richtofen fix the teleporter and we'll have you back home in no time."

I scrunched my nose. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Tank raised an eyebrow. He said nothing because his question was so obvious I could almost hear him say it; "Oh really?"

"I'm not going back. I can't." I really hoped that he would just take the answer as what it was and leave it at that, but, of course, this is Tank we're talking about.

"What do you mean you can't?" The way Tank said the question sounded like he was challenging me.

"I wouldn't be able to go back and act like everything's fine. I wouldn't be able to just go back to college and graduate. I would never have a normal life, not even with therapy," I explained. It was true. I would go back to a life that would feel alien to me. It'd be too safe, too quiet, and all that I've gone through has changed the way I see that lifestyle.

It's boring.

"Then why the hell do you want to stay here?"

I thought about that too. I knew why I didn't want to go but, did it necessarily mean I wanted to be stuck here? I shook my head. "I don't know but if I do decide to stay will you respect my decision?"

"No, I can't," he said bluntly with no hesitation.

That hurt a little, but I just nodded and smiled weakly. "Then you're just going to have to deal with whatever decision I make."

Tank huffed and stood. He turned to leave but before he left the stage, he turned to me and said, "We're doing this for you. It's not because we want you gone, it's because we'd be selfish to keep you and let you die."

And with that he left. I had to admit that he had a way with words but, at this point, his words and reasoning did not change my mind.

I had a plan and I was going to go through with it.

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><p>Night fell over the theater without me noticing it. Not that it mattered really; it wasn't as if I had some place to go. But, despite being motionless, I was rather busy. I was coding once more, scribbling away at the notes that shown on my computer screen before trying to decipher them. I figured that I might as well get it done, it's the least I could do.<p>

So I sat up in the dark, the only light coming from my laptop screen as I became so engrossed to the point where I was ciphering and picking through the grammar, chewing on my eraser till it was a munched up nub on the end of my pencil. I heard noises in the night, but paid them no mind. I was far too busy to get distracted.

I soon found myself finished with my previous task. The last page had finally been decoded. All of it was finally finished and laid out before me on several pieces of paper, written in chicken-scratch writing I called my own. I looked over the pages and double checked all the letters to make sure they were in the proper place and then rested them on the keyboard of my laptop.

_I did it_, I thought, my chest feeling warm_. I actually did it._

I could almost imagine my father's face. Every detail came to me as clearly as if he was sitting right in front of me. I silently thanked him.

I was done. I had finished my job.

I grabbed the screen of the laptop and with a deep sigh, I closed it shut, letting the darkness take the rest of the room and finally putting my old life to sleep.

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><p>I didn't sleep that night, no, I couldn't. I was far too jittery. As soon as the sun peaked through the boards in the front room I ran to find Richtofen. I found him leaning against a wall, hate askew, snoring softly in the deepest of sleeps and for a moment, I almost regretted having to wake him but, this needed to be done.<p>

I gripped his shoulder with my good hand and shook him lightly. In an instant he was awake, hand on his assault rifle, and trying desperately to fix his hat.

"I need your help," I said, my voice calming him instantly.

"Vhatever for?"

"I need to send a message."

"Vhat?"

I sighed and shook him again, waking him further and causing him to huff at me. He removed my hand from his shoulder and glared at me.

"I need to send a message," I repeated, satisfied with my answer.

"Fine, how exactly are ve going to send zhis message?"

"You're going to activate the teleporter," I said, not explaining further.

He looked me over, his green eyes visibly dulling at my words. He frowned and looked down for just a second, before finally looking up and nodding. I nodded back for no clear reason. God, what was wrong with me? Was I still in shock or was I just tired? Did it matter?

No, of course not. I need to finish my task.

"I'll be down zhere in a moment Tabitha," Richtofen finally said, standing. He didn't look happy and he definitely wasn't mad. "I need a minute."

I felt my heart shove itself into my throat. His voice sounded watered down and low, almost strangled. I didn't like it. I wanted to go over there and hug him, even though he'd probably stiffen up or freak out, I still wanted to.

"Richtofen?"

"Ja?"

"It's...not what you think it is."

He paused for a moment, so briefly that, hadn't I been paying attention, would have missed. He then nodded. "I'll be down in a moment."

I nodded again before running down to the theater.

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><p>Richtofen had the teleporter running in moments, much faster than I had originally expected. He told me to stand back; saying that it might be dangerous and that it needed time to warm up, but I knew the truth. He wanted to know what I was doing. He was curious, much like me, to not have answers, and if anything, he found it rather unnerving and annoying.<p>

"Vhat exactly is your plan?"

"I'm-" I paused, not sure what to say. "I guess I'm just tying up loose ends."

Richtofen nodded, seemingly sedated for now. We watched as the teleporter came to life. It made it near deafening noises before finally hissing and humming with electricity. I knew what was coming and I didn't mind.

"Be careful," Richtofen warned, "I don't...I don't vant to have to patch you up again."

"I'll be fine Richtofen," I said, looking toward the huge machine. I gripped the strap of my backpack, holding only the essentials, and sighed. "I'm...gonna miss it."

"It's," he paused, searching for words. He never had been good at being an emotional person. "It's for ze best."

I ran that statement through my head a few times over, dissecting it for what it really meant, but none of that mattered now, I had made my decision and I had to go through with it. "I know," I whispered to myself. Richtofen might have heard it, but if he did, he didn't say anything. I peeked over at him. He wasn't even looking at me.

Taking a deep breath I then took a step forward toward the teleporter. And when I was ready, I hit the button.

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><p><strong>Review if you like.<strong>


	14. Chapter 13

**To lazy to write generic disclaimer. You know I don't own this.**

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Translations:

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**Sorry it's so short! But, this is the end after all. You heard me, the last chapter. I swear I'll make another one! Promise. **

**Anyway, hope you like it. **

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><p>The flashing of the teleporter stopped as soon as the God awful noise it made ceased as well. I stood there, eyes stinging and seeing dots, feeling as if my laptop disappearing into that blue light had somehow lifted a giant weight off my shoulders, no pun intended. I slung my much lighter backpack over my shoulder and sighed. I felt immensely better, almost free, and I couldn't describe how it felt to just send a month and half's worth progress off into the unknown, not knowing who'd find it.<p>

I made no noise, no motion toward the machine. I didn't want to look like I was second guessing myself even though I was. I simply made a passing glance at Richtofen before motioning to leave.

"So, do you feel better now?" Richtofen asked as we walked away from the machine. I looked at him and shrugged, not really positive on what I felt at the current moment.

"Not sure," I said before adding, "but it is nice to have a lighter backpack."

Richtofen chuckled, nodding. "I bet it is."

I smiled up at him. "You know, I'm kind of glad it's gone."

Richtofen rose an eyebrow, looking at me with a look of mild interest. "Oh really?"

I thought back to my old life, to my parents, to my friends, to all my old boyfriends, pets, and even places I lived and noticed that they all had one thing in common; I never, not once, got to say goodbye. I had never been able to do something on my own terms and I remembered every time being extremely painful and heart wrenching but this, no, this had real closure. I had been able to finish my work, do my thing, fulfill my purpose before finally letting it be. I had officially closed a chapter of my life because I decided to.

"Yeah," I finally whispered, my mind not really on answer the question. I didn't even turn to him. I had turned back to the teleporter.

No, my head was somewhere else entirely. My mind soared back to my parents death, how I looked down at them unmoving, remembering how much I wanted to cry because I knew they weren't going to ever speak again. They never said goodbye. I never said goodbye. I realized that everything in my life before now had just been left wide open for criticism and hurt and second guessing. I also realize that all the second guessing had driven me away from people, had caused me to be so unsure. But, here and now, in a world filled with death and decay, where one wrong turn would mean I'm zombie kibble, I have never felt more sure of my decision.

"And vhy do you feel happy?"

I looked at him. "I got to finish what I started and I..." I paused, not sure of what to say. I felt so many things now that I couldn't think straight. I'd never go back, never be able to go to college, live a normal life, or even see any of the people I once knew. I vaguely wondered if anyone missed me. But, I was okay with that. "I got to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? To what?"

"Work, my old life, the silly project, all the notes, my parents and friends..." I let that drift off because at this point in time I didn't exactly know how to finish that sentence.

Richtofen's expression didn't change, his eyebrows still high on his face and his green eyes looking into mine with a steady gaze that could probably read my very soul. But, he nodded. "I can understand that," was all he said before looking away toward the chairs in the theater. No one else was awake yet, we were alone. I didn't follow his gaze. I had nothing to say to be honest. Richtofen broke the silence first. "I'm glad you stayed."

I smiled, peaking at him out of the corner of my eyes. I felt my stomach twist in happiness. "I am too."

Richtofen stayed silent for a few more moments. Standing still, calculated at the front of the stage, looking over the seats as if there was a whole audience before him waiting on the edge of their seats for his words to finally grace their ears. He was smiling, I noticed, and his eyes were lit up as if he had won the jackpot.

"Your really happy, arent you?"

"Oh, yes," he assured, glancing at me. "I'm just not good at expressing myself."

"Well, you should be glad I'm good at reading people," I said with a chuckle. I dug my heels into the hard wood of the stage and smiled even more. Richtofen made a grunt of agreement, not looking back to me. I stood there with him, silent, thinking. Both of us were. I could feel it. I wondered what would happen next. "What do you we do now?"

"Vhat ve always do," Richtofen answered flatly, slightly frowning. "Ve survive."

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Well, for now anyway. A sequel will be coming out soon enough where a new character makes an appearance, a new romance takes place, and well, Tabitha makes a return. I have yet to find out where I want place this in terms of time frame and such but, I guess Ill figure it out. Plus, I have to get the character through the teleporter to begin with! Ugh, but I'll figure it out. **

**Sorry I'm not great at endings. I tried to throw in a little cute stuff there, him being happy that she stayed and what not, but eh, I'm not particularly happy with it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! Till next time. **


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